


You've Got Me Seeing Stars

by thisaintascene



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asshole Best Friend!Anya, Dramatic hoe!Lexa, F/F, Fluff, Lexa gets hurt a lot, She still doesn't die, Smooth Frat Boy!Clarke, just ridiculous fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:23:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisaintascene/pseuds/thisaintascene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The girl confuses you because she sounds like the kind of person who could have twelve broken bones and still be claiming she’s alright and refusing to get help, and yet you had heard her whine like a three year old totally convinced that she was going to die from a bump in the head. </p>
<p>And now she’s claiming someone tried to kill her with a bike.<br/><br/> <br/>Or  ‘you’re the on-call doctor on saturday nights and i’m purposely injuring myself so i can attempt to chat you up while you give me stitches but i s2g the first three times were accidents i just got too attached’ AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1.  


Anya is a jackass.

Nothing new there.

Still.

The last thing you need on a goddamn Saturday, the only day you have to relax, is more stress. You are getting it regardless, and it kinda pisses you off. 

But if you complain, you feel like you are being a dick, because it’s not like your best friend actually asked for this all to happen, so there really is no good option. 

Ignoring Anya could always be an option. But then again, you value your life too much to attempt to do that. 

“And here is the last one,” she drops another box on your arms - _what the hell, it weights more than you do_ \- and makes a dismissive move with her arms indicating you to keep walking. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Anya. As much as I appreciate that this is really the last box and you haven’t lied to me _again_ , can you kindly explain to me what the fuck you put into it that makes it so ridiculously heavy?”

“Your grumpiness. All of it. It’s all in there.”

Your hands are preventing your feet from getting violently murdered, and you have to conform yourself with shooting her a glare. It’s not rewarding at all. 

“Oh, crap, I left some of it, it’s still in your face. Here… let me-”

She makes a move with her hand to annoyingly touch your face, but you manage to kick her with your left foot, and she backs off with a smirk. You’re still precariously holding the box.

“I will take this with the rest instead of throwing it in your direction, but you’re paying for the pizza.” 

The walk up to your apartment is only two floors, thank god, but you’d still appreciate an elevator. Unfortunately, you haven’t been graced with such luck and although it never bothered you before (you enjoyed the little exercise anyway), now it does. After all, it’s a bit difficult maneuvering up the stairs with the box when you can’t even see your own feet.

Oh god, is this how pregnant women feel?

If it is, you are never getting pregnant.

“Hey, Lexa!” Anya’s voice comes from the bottom of the stairs, and you turn your head slightly to indicate that you’re listening. “Careful with-”

Your feet collide abruptly with a suitcase, and you feel yourself falling to the floor, no dignity whatsoever. The box falls from your arms, and you make an attempt to break the fall with your left hand, but it backfires quickly when your whole weight gets placed on that precise part of your body.

A second later, your head hits the floor, and you hear Anya swearing as she comes near you.

She proceeds to insult you, which… unnecessary.

 

****

 

The ice on you face feels nice. Fricking cold as balls, but nice. You’re sprawled on your couch, guttural noises coming out of your mouth, while Anya examines your eye with a raised brow and a critical expression. She presses one finger to your already-blossoming bruise and grins when you hiss and glare at her.

“Good news is, there’s not a hole, so your brain probably won’t slip out,” she puts the ice bag on you hand and moves it so it’s resting again against your face, standing up when she sees you’re capable of executing the task. “Bad news is, you might be a lil dumber now, but that’s okay, I still love you.”

“You asshole, I wouldn’t have almost died if I wasn’t helping you with your things, so this is your fault.”

The pounding in your head is driving you nuts, and you don’t even have the energy to say it threateningly. It just sounds whiny.

Besides, you realize when you raise your head from the pillow, Anya is not even in the room anymore. Oh god, you’re going to die alone. You probably have a brain contusion.

She comes back five minutes later with pizza. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s fine.”

You take a slice, chewing the cheese slowly in your mouth.

“Maybe we should go to the hospital, someone should take a look at that.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, and _clearly_ I’m an expert at injuries. Your bone could be broken, and I wouldn’t know for shit.”

You stop eating to take another look at your wrist, while carefully moving you hand towards you. It hurts, but it’s definitely not that bad.

“It’s not broken, I can move it.”

Anya turns on the television, switching from channel to channel relentlessly while you finish your part of the pizza and drop your head against the soft pillow again. 

The room stays quiet for a few minutes except for the background sound of whatever crime tv show Anya is watching with an absurd amount of concentration, and the couch is _so soft_.

You’re almost falling asleep, when her voice brings you back to reality.

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

“I told you, it’s not a problem. You can stay as long as you need.”

She nods, and turns again towards the tv show, grabbing another slice of pizza. It makes you smile, because really, for all your inability to communicate your feelings, it’s always nice knowing that your best friend is even worse. Way worse.

You’re about to nod off again, when your eyes fall on your wrist and you freeze.

“Anya.”

“Mhmm?”

“It’s swelling.”

She turns to you with a confused expression and follows your eyes towards your hand.

“Fuck,” she stands up with wide eyes and a grimace. “Lexa, your wrist is turning blue.”

 

****

 

The ride to the hospital is interesting. You keep complaining about your wrist, huffing loudly every time you have to as much as open a door, and Anya keeps looking above, towards the sky, as if she's praying for a piano to fall on your head so you stop annoying her.

She takes care of everything once you arrive, though, and you're eternally grateful, following her as she takes you to the emergency waiting room, where at least thirty people in all kinds of damaged stages sit bored and keep their eyes on the ground.

You decide you agree with their stance, so you do the same.

Anya doesn't sit down. She stays up next to you, glaring at everybody and indelicately staring at their injuries in the least subtle way.

You avoid looking at them, because you feel like crap, and also you’re wearing you black pyjama pants that have white dots and are ridiculous, but that you couldn’t change out of because with your useless hand it was impossible to put on your jeans. And you refused to have Anya help you put on your pants. Now, though, it doesn’t seem like it would have been such a bad idea.

It isn't until an hour and a half later that your name gets called by a short nurse with an annoying voice, who asks you more questions while she writes things down on your files.

"Okay," she takes you through a hallway to another, bigger room, and she motions towards one of the beds behind a curtain. "Box 4, wait for the nurse, she'll be here in a second."

You sit your ass on the bed, because you're tired and it's late, and you miss your couch. It's probably already night.

There are more people on the room, other beds with patients getting a few stitches, but you can't really see much. Not that you care. You just want this thing to be over. 

"Well, if I'm dying, at least I won't have to live with Anya, god knows that's going to be fun."

"First of all, don't say that about the poor girl. Yes, your friend has already threatened three people in the waiting room, two of them children, but at least she brought you here alive."

You turn startled towards the sound of a low, raspy voice coming from the foot of your bed, to see a blonde woman standing there reading some papers. Papers with your information, you assume.

"Secondly, you're not going to die. You have a sprained wrist and I'm sure your face has seen better days, but I see no indications of imminent death."

She looks at you with a small smile at the curve of her mouth, and her eyes are like... shinning. She's beautiful, and you're staring, and after a few seconds it becomes awkward.

But you're still unable to say anything, so you keep staring with your mouth half open.

Her expression becomes worried and she looks at the ugly bruise above your eye. "Maybe it is worst that I thought..."

You clear your throat and try to put on your best unamused face. "I'm actually quite fine. I don't have any kind of brain impairment."

She takes a couple steps towards you, and you notice the little smile again. You're pretty sure she was just messing with you.

She seems nice, though.

Your arm is carefully grasped by one of her hands, and she starts touching your wrist on different spots. "Your name is Lexa, right?" you nod, "my name's Clarke Griffin," she proceeds to touch a particularly painful part of your damaged wrist, and you inevitably moan in pain.

She apologizes, and she seems sincere.

“So did you get into a fight?” You keep your eyes on her as she lets down your arm on your lap slowly and grabs a pen to write down a few things. When you don’t answer immediately, she gives you a flirty (you’re pretty sure it’s flirty) smile, “How many guys? Two? Three?”

“I tripped on a suitcase while I was carrying a box and I fell to the floor.”

She stares at you for five seconds while her grin grows and then she’s just full on laughing in front of you.

“So yeah, actually it was just me versus a box. And I didn't win.”

“At least tell me it didn’t come out totally unharmed.”

“It kind of got crushed on one of the corners.”

She nods solemnly, and you smile in spite of yourself. She’s young, probably not much older than you. You want to ask her how long she has been working as a nurse, because she’s _young_.

You don’t, though, because she’s telling you that she’s going to ask for an x-ray, and she leaves with a wink, and you don’t say anything.

An old woman in the Box next to yours seems to be trying to set up the doctor with her granddaughter while explaining to him that her hip hurts because she went dancing with her friends even though she was supposed to rest.

You decide to lay down on the bed because your headache is getting worse, and you close your eyes while wondering if Nurse Clarke Griffin is going to come back at all before you die. It’s been like fifteen minutes.

Nurse Clarke Griffin is pretty.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, time for your daily dose of electromagnetic radiation.”

You blush, but you don’t know if it’s because of the thoughts you were having about her or because of the Sleeping Beauty thing.

She takes you to a dark room, where another nurse proceeds to place your arm on a cold surface while the x-ray machine hums for a few seconds and you stay as still as you can. It’s over quickly, and when you come out of the room, she’s there waiting for you with a teasing smile.

“So, how’s that trying-not-to-die part? You think you can hold on for a few minutes until we have the results?”

You follow her back to Box 4, and sigh dramatically as you sit on the bed.

“It’s not cool to make fun of the terminally ill.”

She snorts, and she tries to hide her laugh behind her hand.

The radiograph doesn’t take long, and she shows it to you while she confirms her diagnosis. Your wrist is just sprained. Grade I. Minor damage to the ligament.

She starts immobilizing your wrist with some bandages. “Okay, so you should definitely rest it for 48 hours, and also put ice for twenty minutes every three to four hours. In three days the pain should be gone.”

You nod, trying to keep up with the information.

“Take some anti-inflammatory pain-killers if it hurts too much,” she’s done with your hand and she looks up at your face, “also, some ice on your eye will reduce the swelling, but I guess you already know that,” now her hand is on your face, touching lightly on the bruise and you honestly feel like combusting.

She is so pretty.

The moment passes, she takes a step back, and you feel your breathing return to normal.

That’s good.

She nods at you all serious. “Lexa Woods, you’re free to go.”

You get up while returning the nod. Anya is probably about to kill someone if she has not already, and the thought makes you smile. She has probably stolen some kid’s chocolate bar and offended at least a couple of old women.

Clarke’s already checking up a list of her next patients, and you remember the way back to the waiting room, so you start walking towards the hallway, when you hear her voice from behind you.

“By the way,” you turn to look at her and she drags her eyes towards your face, but you swear they weren’t there seconds before, “I like your pants. They’re cute.”

She turns towards the other Box, and disappears behind a curtain, and you’re left standing there wondering if the hit you took on your head has _actually_ affected your mental stability and you’re imagining things.

  


****

  


Anya has not killed anyone. In fact, when you arrive at the waiting room, she’s asleep on one of the uncomfortable plastic seats, and it actually makes you sad when you have to wake her up.

That changes when she starts complaining about how it took you fucking hours to just get a shitty bandage, and you roll your eyes while tuning her out.

  


****

  


2.

The week passes quickly. You get pissed off all the time about every single thing you’re now unable to do on your own because of the injury, which apparently it’s _a lot_ of things.

You and Anya agree to never, ever, talk about some things. Like how she has to basically help you get dressed. 

Apparently, you can't go around campus with your dazzling polka-dots pyjama pants.

Shame.

Living with her is… not easy. But it’s not as hard as you though it would be, and that’s enough for you.

She cooks you dinner, because you’re now hopelessly incompetent at basic human tasks.

By the end of the week, the bandage goes out, and your wrist doesn’t hurt. Your face is still an ugly shade of purple, but it’s better too.

And you feel good.

  


Until one morning you’re going for a run before you have to go to class, and a fricking stupid bike comes out of nowhere, forcing you to jump to your left, tripping and sprawling your body on the ground.

The asshole doesn’t even stay to check up if you’re okay.

Your leg is bleeding and seriously _what the fuck_ , and you call Anya because it hurts.

“I’ve been attacked.”

“See? I told you running was dangerous.”


	2. Chapter 2

Fridays at the hospital are awful. Actually, all the days you work there are. Not because of the work per se, you enjoy being a nurse most of the time, but because Friday, Saturday and Sunday are the days kids get overexcited at the prospect of freedom from school and they smash their head open on whatever surface they happen to be playing on.

So it's just kids, and kids, and more kids bleeding on the emergency room. 

And kids scare you.

But you know why you're working on weekends, and you don't complain. You're still learning, you don't have the degree the others have. And weekends are for people who earn little and work too much.

You've got a job though. And you know why and how you got this job, so you smile and patch up the kid of the hour, a twelve year old who though going down the slide of the park face first would be hilarious.

He's not laughing much now, but he still seems weirdly proud of himself, and you're reminded exactly why kids creep you out.

"Clarke!"

You turn at the sound of your name and you see Lincoln half-running towards you. The kid is now touching his own face, and you want to grab his hand to stop it, because he's going to tear up his stitches before he even walks out of the hospital and that's a new record. Thankfully, the mother grabs his hand and after you nod at her indicating that everything has been taken care of, she directs him to the hallway and they walk out of the room.

"Can you take Box 2? I have a complication and I can't be at two places at once."

You sigh, as if taking another patient supposes a huge complication for you right now, and you wait a good minute watching him in the corner of your eye impatiently staring at you.

"Okay."

He rolls his eyes, and you're pretty sure he's resisting the urge to call you an asshole. "Thank you."

"Don't worry. Go."

You just hope it's not another kid hiding behind the blue curtain. If it is, you're just letting him for Lincoln when he comes back, he's good with kids. He can deal with it.

Your eyes widen when they find the person sitting in the bed, because it is definitely not a kid, and it is definitely someone you've seen before.

The girl's face seems to register the same emotions as yours, because her mouth parts slightly and she looks really, really surprised. She also looks embarrassed, and when you notice the blood on her knee, a laugh escapes your throat. She closes her mouth in a tight line, and she glares at you. It is still adorable, but you don't want to piss off your patient, so you fight the urge to laugh and keep it at a friendly smile.

"Another box?"

" _A bike._ "

"I see." You grab a stool to sit closer to the painfully looking scratch on her leg. "You shouldn't fight bikes, though, they help reduce environmental pollution."

You look up at her to see if she has the cute glare again directed towards you, but your eyes travel (unconsciously) through her body and... shit. She was clearly going on a run, and she's wearing running shorts that are really _short_ and a tank top that adjusts wonderfully to her torso, and her abs. She has a tattoo on her arm. 

And there’s sweat on her skin.

Holy shit, you're in trouble.

Your eyes are betraying you, taking in everything even if you really, really, don't want to. Staring creepily at your patients is _not_ something that even remotely enters in your list of acceptable behavior. But her messy ponytail is the cutest thing you've seen today, and she has the greenest eyes, and her hands are holding onto the edge of the bed while she dangles her legs like a five year old.

"I fell while I was running."

You're reminded of the situation, and continue examining the knee as if you weren't having an existential crisis barely seconds before. Grabbing her foot, you move her leg towards her right while flexing it, stopping only when her face turns into a grimace.

"Running from what."

She chuckles, although it is cut off quickly when you start bending her leg towards her left.

"Just running. Some people do that."

"Mhm. People are weird."

You look up to find her rolling her eyes, but there's an easy playful smile on her lips.

"Not big on exercise?"

You consider the question while grabbing the alcohol and the bandages.

"I can run," she's staring at you with her eyebrows raised and you give her a cocky smirk. "you know, if someone's chasing me. Or trying to rob me. I would run."

After cleaning the blood, you apply the disinfectant on the scratch.

"Well, that's good. I'm more at peace now knowing you would."

God, her sarcastic attitude is really doing things to you, and you would laugh if she wasn't staring at you waiting for a reaction. Because really, this is nice, but she's still a patient. You are _not_ flirting with a patient.

"I'm not the one who said hello to the pavement with her knee and ended up in the hospital."

No flirting doesn't mean no playful banter.

... right?

She exhales loudly and an annoyed groan comes from her throat. “I was just doing my thing, some idiot tried to run me over and kill me. And I swear, they are _lucky_ that I didn’t go after them to give them a piece of my mind. Also, a piece of my fist.”

“Go after them. With this leg.”

She shrugs. “I could have.”

The girl confuses you because she sounds like the kind of person who could have twelve broken bones and still be claiming she’s alright and refusing to get help (you did notice that a few hours had passed from the moment she hurt her wrist to the moment she came to the hospital), and yet you had heard her whine like a three year old totally convinced that she was going to die from a bump in the head. And now she’s claiming someone tried to kill her with a bike.

It’s endearing.

But confusing.

So you focus on bandaging her leg and stick to medical terms, because otherwise you know you'll end up saying something that is not exactly professional and, really, there's no way to know how Lexa would react. 

"Okay, so this hurts, but there is no damage that you have to worry about. It looked worse because of the blood, but there is no impairment of the leg's movement, so it should be fine in a few days. Just let it rest, because it will swell and it will look nasty, and walking may be uncomfortable."

"Yeah, I figured it was not bad. Just a scratch."

You notice her voice tone is weird, as if she's waiting to find the words to say something. She wants to ask you a question about the leg.

"What's the problem?"

Her hands are still grasping the edge of the bed, but now they're nervously picking at the paper sheets. She seems a little surprised at you noticing.

"Um. I start soccer training. In five days."

"I see."

"I kinda need to know if I can play."

You're returning all the medical equipment to its place, and you take your time coming back to sit again in front of her. There's a strand of her hair that's sticking to the side of her face, and you want to brush it behind her ear. You entertain your hands writing the diagnosis of the injury on the file.

You decide not to torture her too much though, so you answer her as you keep filling the spaces on the paper.

"So if I told you that you can't go to soccer practice, you wouldn't."

You hear her shifting. She clears her throat, clearly put on the spot.

"... Possibly."

"Possibly."

"Yeah."

"So you're not really looking for me to tell you if you can play, you're looking for confirmation that _you can play_.

"I mean... if you put it like that..."

You can't help but laugh at that, because she's actually pouting. It creates a weird atmosphere, because you’re laughing, and she’s smiling, and you’re no longer patching her up. There’s nothing for you to keep your hands busy with. It’s just the two of you joking around on the emergency room.

And it’s nice.

Maybe that’s why you find yourself curious for the girl. “What, are you that important for the team? Are they all gonna forget how to kick the ball if you’re not there?”

“Excuse you, they’d all be lost without me,” she puts on this mocking bratty-girl voice and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep you face serious and you nod earnestly.

Her knee is fine though. “You can play, but do not force it.” You look at her until her face indicates that she understands and that she’ll do as you say. “Okay, have fun doing that thing you people do. _Exercise_ you said it was called?”

“Oh, you keep making fun of me, but let’s see who gets their wallet stolen first by someone who’s chasing them.”

“So in this hypothetical situation… how much money is on the wallet?” she stares at you with an amused expression, “just making sure the running thing is actually worth it.”

You help her get down from the bed, even if it’s not really necessary, you’re pretty sure she can manage, but your hand goes to her arm subconsciously to balance her, because she’s trying to put as little weight on her leg as possible. 

The moment she’s on the floor, you take a step back though. It reminds you of the first time, when you got closer to her to take a look at the bruise on her face, and the air got suddenly charged. You were probably the only one who noticed anyway, so you shake those thoughts away.

“How’s your eye?”

She seems caught off guard. Probably because she thought you were about to leave to attend another patient, but you’re still here asking her questions.

“It’s alright. It looks like I tried to put on some make-up while I was drunk, but I’m living with it as best as I can.”

“Did nobody ask you if your left eye hurt?” 

You catch yourself when the words are already out of your mouth, and there’s really nothing you can do to take them back, so you try to conceal your panic as best as you can and stare at her, praying for her to not ask.

Her face scrunches up adorably. “Is there some kind of second meaning to that? I mean, yeah, people asked me if I was okay, I guess.”

“Never mind, it was a stupid joke.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You know, the pick-up line?”

You sigh, because she’s staring at you clearly waiting for an explanation. But she doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would get awkward by it, so you throw caution to the wind and go for it, letting out a laugh before you give her a charming smile.

“Hey girl, does your left eye hurt?” she makes the most ridiculous face, and she seems really, really entertained by your whole act, “Because you’re looking _right_.”

She snorts loudly, and fails miserably at trying to keep a straight face. Her cheeks are turning a faded shade of pink, and you feel incredibly proud of yourself. She recovers quickly though, and she stares at you with a look that you can’t quite figure out.

“It’s my right eye the one that hurts.”

“Well, that kinda screws up my line.”

“It was a nice try, though. Definitely better than others I’ve heard.”

“Thanks.”

You’re opening you’re mouth to tell her that she can go, that you’re supposed to be already with another patient, when the curtain get pulled aside and Lincoln enters the small space.

“Oh, I thought you’d have finished by now.”

“We are now, don’t worry.”

He turns towards Lexa, and you get nervous that he’ll notice the red in her cheeks, or the weird flirty tension you can’t stop feeling in the air, or the way you're avoiding his eyes, because even though you did nothing wrong, it kinda feels like you did. 

You’re getting paranoid, perfect.

“Hey, I’m Lincoln.” He’s just his usual warm loving self, and you sigh in relief.

“Lexa. Nice to meet you.” She turns to you as she’s leaving. “And thanks for, you know, everything, Nurse Griffin.”

“No problem. Try to stay away from murderous bikes!”

“I’ll do my best!”

She walks towards the door half-limping and you turn around to face Lincoln, who’s on his phone totally ignoring you.

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer you, so you get closer to him and snatch the device from his hands in a quick smooth move. He tries to complain but it’s too late.

“Octavia. I knew it!”

“Shh. Don’t- just keep it quiet, okay? Also, I’m not supposed to be on my phone, so give it back or I’m gonna get roasted.”

“So are you two together?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, and it’s _so_ obvious that it is in fact a pretty big deal.

“Maybe. You can’t take the credit though.”

Well, now that’s insulting. You give him the phone back. “Excuse me, you wouldn’t know each other if it wasn’t for me.”

“Details.” He finishes writing whatever the hell he had to say to the girl that couldn’t wait the two hours he has left of his shift. “Besides, you know, if people are meant to meet each other, they do. Doesn’t matter the circumstances.”

“Did that sappy thing really just came out of your mouth?” You stare at him wondering if you should be happy for your friend, or just really, really worried. “Anyway, one down. Another one to go. Who can I pair Raven up with?”

“No one. She’ll kill you.”

“Oh, don’t be a party-pooper.”

He sits on the bed, in the same spot Lexa was minutes ago, with his hands folded in his lap, and he looks at you in a way that is starting to make you uncomfortable. 

"What?"

"I don't know, I was just thinking that maybe... instead of looking for someone for Raven, you know, you could try to find someone _you_ like? Find someone who deserves you, and give it a shot?"

"Oh god, are you my mom?" you get closer to him with a worried expression and you start touching his face annoyingly until he swats your hand away. "Has my mom possessed your body? I'm scared."

"Idiot. I'm trying to give you advice, okay? As someone who's happy-"

"I'm happy."

"Okay, I give up," he stands up and puts her hands up in surrender. "Also, you know your mom is just... she's trying her best, okay?"

"My mom wants me to date someone, but let's be real, she'd only be happy if I ended up with a guy. And yes, there's a possibility that might happen, but there's also a possibility it won't, so I think I'll just skip the drama altogether."

"Just give her time," he comes closer to you, and presses a quick kiss on your forehead that makes you smile. "But it doesn't mean you have to put your life on pause."

He starts leaving when you call him, and he turns around, probably expecting a reply to his words.

"So Raven. Do you know anyone?"

He sighs and keeps walking while shaking his head.


	3. Chapter 3

You take the bus to get home from the hospital. Anya is still working at Starbucks, and it is her third day, so you don’t want her to get in trouble for coming to pick you up. She has spoken encouraging words through the device though. Things like “don’t be a pussy” and “walk it off, Lexa” followed by “actually, limp it off” and a maniacal laugh that had made you want to throw your phone at her head.

She had also asked you five times if you were sure you didn’t want her to come for you, so you know that she cares. She just has a really peculiar way of showing it. And to be honest, you’re fine with that.

Taking the bus is also fine. The only problem is that you’re too busy daydreaming about Nurse Clarke Griffin that you almost accidentally forget to get down on your stop. Almost.

But it’s not like… in a weird way. You just think she’s pretty. And funny. It’s not a big deal. You’re probably not even going to see her again, it’s strange enough that she’s been the one to tend to your injuries twice already. And it is embarrassing enough.

You walk the last steps to your floor nodding at yourself. Also, you keep an eye for random objects on the floor. You think you have all the reasons to do that. You don’t trust Anya, and you don’t feel like going to the hospital again today. Paranoia is a girl’s best friend. 

Once inside the apartment, after a quick stop to the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen peas for your leg, you make a beeline for the couch, where you drop your body haphazardly. It is only after throwing a glance around you that you realize the remote is standing too far you to reach it comfortably with your hand, so you make a distressed sound and decide to sacrifice TV. You’ll just stare at the ceiling waiting for someone (Anya) to come home and cook you something to eat.

 

****

 

“I’M HOME, HONEY!”

The horrendous screech interrupts rudely your peaceful (albeit a bit odd) dreams, and you jump, suddenly awake, landing heavily on the floor with a dull thud.

Holy shit, you’re gonna kill Anya.

She comes to stand at the entrance of the room, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“Why are you on the floor?”

You grunt while forcing yourself to stand up (or a least, half up) and you drag your body back to the couch, pushing your lower extremities on the soft cushions by taking impulse with your arms. Anya looks at the pathetic display with pursed lips and a judgmental stare.

“So how did it go?” she walks towards you, sitting on the couch arm rest. “Is your leg okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just have to keep on the down-low for a few days with the physical exercise.”

Anya hums, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV, “Guess I’m back to babysitting.”

“Shut up,” you steal the remote from her hand, “and go make me something to eat.”

 

****

 

It’s your first day of practice and you’re excited. Even if your leg is still looking a nasty blue color. You need to kick some ass on the field or otherwise you’ll go crazy.

You’ve never been one to take things delicately. 

You are kind of accident prone. So what? Everybody has their flaws.

But being on the field is different. You _own it_ there. You’re good at it. And you love getting dirty, and messy, and (occasionally) brutal.

The bag on your shoulder is heavy, and your feet itch to break into a run. It's perfect. You're the first on the locker room, but then again, you almost always are.

Taking the phone from the bag, you kill the time by responding to a few texts. 

It's not long, though, before the door opens and loud cheers fill the room. "WE'RE BACK, BITCHES!" Monroe and Harper are the first to enter, the first one giving you a high five the moment she walks in front of you, "Hey, Lexa!"

"Oh my god, do y'all have to be so fucking loud?"

You smile as your eyes fall again on the door. "Hello, Echo. Long time no see."

"Yeah, yeah. I've been busy. Unlike you all lazy idiots." 

You laugh as another one of the girls enters and hugs her from behind, causing the tall dark haired girl to make a disgusted face. "Ooooh girls, Echo missed us!"

The locker room erupts into cheers and laughs and chants of "we love you too!".

Echo sighs, and goes straight to her locker, where she drops her head against the metal dramatically.

"I did not."

 

****

 

Practice goes smoothly. You’re proud of the team, because even though it’s been a while since you all have played together, you’re still on point. Everybody kicks ass and you find yourself unable to keep the smile out of your face.

Indra yells a lot. But it sounds just like music to your ears.

“THAT WAS MEDIOCRE. I WANT YOU ALL ON YOUR BEST LEVEL NEXT PRACTICE, I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY MISTAKES.”

Sweet, sweet music to your ears.

 

****

 

3.

It’s three weeks later, when your phone starts ringing suddenly while you’re in the middle of trying to cook something nice for once. You’ve been slacking off in the house because of practice, and college, and Anya has been an asshole but you have to admit she’s taken house duties upon herself. And you feel bad.

She’s also working a lot of shifts at Starbucks to pay her part of the rent, even though you’ve told her many times that it’s fine. But she just ignores you, and you’ve come to realize that nothing you say is going to change anything in her way of dealing with things. 

So you’re making dinner on a Saturday night. There are also candles, and you seriously cannot wait for Anya to see the whole paraphernalia and announce with undisguised disgust how much she hates you. Flowers had also been considered for a few minutes, but ultimately you decided you didn’t want to push your luck. Anya will hate you, but you also know that she’s going to appreciate the fuck out of the fancy shitty pasta dish you’re cooking. 

If only you succeed.

Your laptop is making suffocating noises next to you and you stare at it because “yeah, I feel you” while you try to decipher how to cut the tomatoes so they end up looking nice and pretty, and suddenly your phone is ringing. You plan on letting it sound until the person on the other end of the line gets tired, because you can’t even cook when you’re dedicating your whole full attention to it, so you’ll probably burn the kitchen down if you’re not. The pasta is boiling and you really need to get these tomatoes right. They’re important. At least according to the recipe.

But then your eyes land on the caller id, and your eyes widen while your hand reaches quickly to grab the phone. You tap the green spot on the screen hurriedly.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” your voice sounds worried, but you are incapable of making it sound any other way. “Gustus?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.” A warm laugh escapes the man on the phone, and you feel your lungs fill with relief. “Lexa, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t know, I thought something had happened, you only call on Tuesdays. And Aden-“

“Aden is fine.” You can feel him smiling through the phone. That’s what you love most about Gustus, he’s always been good at calming you down with a couple of words and a smile. “But I do have to talk to you about something involving him.”

He sounds calm, so by now you believe him about everything being okay. Nothing’s wrong. But then again, the world could be about to end, and you’re pretty sure Gustus would still be calm. He would just stare and smile as it all went to shit.

You shake those thoughts with a laugh, and you put the phone on your shoulder, pressing it awkwardly to your face so you can hear him while reading the stupid recipe on your laptop. After all, you have some food to make.

“What’s up with him?”

“I know you’re busy with collage and soccer, but some work stuff has come up, and I need to leave for a couple of weeks. And believe me, I have absolutely zero excitement about business reunions with rich people, but I have to do this. I can’t take Aden with me, he has school.”

You bite your lower lip while considering the situation. It’s not like it’s the first time something like this has come up, and you always managed. Skipping a few classes here and there should be enough. But there’s, as Gustus said, soccer. That’s a problem.

A laugh erupts from your throat before you can help it at the beautiful thoughts in your brain. “Anya.” You’re now full on giggling, and Gustus has stopped talking and is probably waiting for you to stop with a worried expression on his face.

“What?”

“Anya is going to save my ass. And yours. Don’t worry about it, drop Aden here when you need to, and I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, kiddo. Everything good?”

“Everything good, old man.” He groans and complains about you calling him that, while you smile and reassure him that you love him anyway. He tells you to take care of yourself, to eat well, to not force yourself too much studying. He’s not your father, but he’s the closest thing you’ve even had to one, and he sure acts like it.

He’s family.

“So… no new exciting adventures in your life?” You frown at that, not really understanding his words. “You know, new people… maybe a girlfriend?”

“GUSTUS!”

“Okay, okay, nevermind.”

You start spluttering, feeling really uncomfortable all of the sudden, and your phone attempts a failed escaped between your shoulder and your cheek. You move your arm to prevent it from falling without taking into consideration the big knife on your hand cutting the goddamn tomato in “thin and even” slices.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT, YOU FUCKING SON OF A TOMATO BITCH.”

“HONEY, I’M H-” Anya stands in the door looking directly into the kitchen, her eyes focused on your hand. “Is- is that blood?”

 

****

 

“So I’m thinking. You should choose a chair,” you throw an annoyed look at Anya, because she’s been saying stuff to piss you off for two hours now, and you’re really, really, starting to feel like going back home to get that knife. “and you can put your name on it. That way, you’ll feel more at home at the ER waiting room. You can bring snacks, too, just an idea. I mean, with all the time you spent here…”

“Shut up. I’m bleeding, have a little consideration.”

She chuckles and goes back to stretching her arms over her head. She says waiting makes her muscles numb. You think she’s just an impatient idiot.

“Lexa Woods.”

You’ve memorized the protocol by now. Are the people working on the hospital looking at you like they know you’ve been here 3 times in the last month and a half, or are you just making things up? 

You’re pretty sure the nurse who called out your name is not the same, so that’s a relief.

“Box 2, wait for Nurse Griffin, please.”

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no.

Shit, no.

What if you just… leave? Surely blood is pouring out of the cut in your hand like water in the Niagara Falls, but then again, maybe it’s not that bad? You can make a run for the back door (there has to be a back door somewhere) and just… walk back home. Anya will figure it out after a couple hours. Because that is less embarrassing that Nurse Clarke Griffin trying to hide her laugh at your disastrous self while she stares at you with those gorgeous blue eyes, and that charming sm-

The curtain is pulled aside and the blonde steps into the small space. You’re sitting on the bed, as always, because even though you can stand perfectly fine, your wound is in your hand after all, you got nervous. At least, if you’re sitting you don’t feel so awkward.

“Hello, Lexa.”

“It was not my fault.” You blurt the words, and you honestly don’t understand _why_. You feel like a kid that has been caught stealing candy from the candy jar.

“Let me figure it out,” she comes to stand in front of you, and she takes you hand from your lap while your heart threatens to jump out of your chest, “the knife had been plotting your murder for months.”

You need to get your shit together or she’s going to think you’re an idiot. You’re pretty sure she already thinks that, but you don’t think giving her more reasons is going to do you any favors. ‘For fuck’s sake, Lexa, you’re an English major, you can do words’.

Another voice appears in your head, and she sounds suspiciously similar to Anya’s. ‘Except when pretty girls are involved’.

Shut the fuck up, Anya.

You frown at Clarke because you haven’t said anything to her about the knife and you’re confused.

“I read it on the file. You talked to a nurse before you got here.”

You nod. That makes sense, they had asked you how you’d gotten the cut. You’re definitely not thinking about the fact that Clarke actively asked someone about you (or your injury, whatever) before coming to patch up your hand.

“This is gonna need stitches.”

You wince and you’re not sure if it is because she’s touching your hand and it kinda hurts or because of her words. Needles are not your favorite thing, and you don’t want to look like a wimp, but you’re really not sure how you’re going to react to someone that comes near you with one.

She must sense your apprehension, because she starts randomly asking you stuff while she cleans the cut. “So what’s the story?”

You welcome the distraction. “I was trying to cook something for Anya, cause I haven’t been doing much on the apartment later and I felt bad. She always cooks. And cleans.”

Clarke’s eyes widen slightly and her smile drops. “Oh.” You stare at her, expecting _something_ , because that was a weird reaction. “Anya’s the girl who brought you here the first time, right?”

You nod, and she grabs the local anesthetic while she explains the steps required to give you the sutures. 

After a few moments, she speaks again and now it’s you the one who’s surprised. “I didn’t know you guys were together.”

“We’re not.” You’re used to people assuming, especially now that you’re living together, but Clarke thinking it too just doesn’t sit well with you. “Best friend. Nothing more. God, no.”

Clarke laughs, and you wonder if bringing up the fact that you’re single would considered inappropriate. Probably just awkward. It’s not like you can just flirt with a nurse. It that even legal? After thinking about it, you don’t see why it wouldn’t be.

“Anyway, I was doing my best with the cooking thing when Gustus called and told me that I had to take care of Aden for a couple of weeks and then he started trying to get some gossip out of me, which is weird because that man has never gossiped in his life, although to be honest I don’t know what he talks about with his friends so who knows, and between the phone, the pasta boiling, the fricking tomatoes-” you’re rambling because the needle is getting closer and closer and you’re fucking terrified. 

Clarke notices you’ve stopped talking and you’re just staring at her hands with a horrified expression in your face. “Gustus?”

You take in a deep breath and look away from your hand, fully intent on ignoring whatever the hell is happening down there. “He’s like my foster dad? But not really my dad. Cause I was old when he adopted us,” you realize she probably doesn’t know what you’re talking about, she doesn’t know who ‘us’ is after all, and you feel dumb, “Aden and me, my brother. He was seven, so he considers Gustus his father. I’m sorry, I’m probably not making any sense. It’s complicated.”

“I don’t know, sounds pretty simple to me.” She smiles at you warmly, and you feel like crying, but that’s probably due to the fact that the stitches torture is over and Clarke is wrapping up your hand. 

“Do you work here full time? You’re young.” And there you go again making stupid questions and not learning to think before you speak.

Clarke snorts, clearly not bothered at all by your question. “I only work on Fridays and weekends. I finished my nursing degree a few months ago.”

You want to tell her she must be really lucky to have find a job like this so fast, but this time you catch yourself before you do, because you don’t want it to sound like you’re saying she’s a bad nurse and she only got the job because of luck. She’s a good nurse. Your stitches are the bomb.

You do go for the flirty line, because you’re pretty sure the last time _she_ was flirting with you, so what the hell.

“Weekends. That’s good to know,” she looks at you with a smirk and you try not to blush.

“I mean, I strongly don’t encourage injuries and trips to the hospital… but yeah, here I am.” 

You’re sure your face is some weird kind of red color, and you feel hot. Hot as in warm, uncomfortably warm. But holy shit, that was flirting.

You both decide at the same time to drop it though, or at least that’s the feeling you get from the look Clarke gives you, and you listen attentively to her when she starts giving you instructions for your hand and advice, and you’re looking at her but not a single fucking word registers in your brain. It’s just sentences that fly above your head and disappear while you stare at Clarke as she scrunches her nose adorably while explaining something and fidgets with the pen against her thigh.

It’s not until you’re about to leave and Clarke utters the words, "Remember, in seven days I need you to come back to take those out” that your brain starts to process information again. She smiles at you one last time and goes to check on her next patient.

Seven days.

What.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and the comments!  
> Forgot to say it last time, but seriously, all your ideas and stories were fucking hilarious.  
> Feel free to tell me about you most embarrassing injuries, I crack up laughing at the ones I've read. You guys are good.
> 
> I'm trying to update once a week! That being said, next week looks tough :/ (i'm trying to survive college)

The sound of the door opening wakes you up. You don’t know exactly which door, because you’re still half-sleep and totally confused. Your hand is touching something cold and the moment you gain movement of your arm you retreat it to safety, pressing it against your chest, where it feels warm and nice. Also, something is digging on your ribs, and you shuffle to try to unsuccessfully make it stop.

Noise of keys falling to the floor. You’re pretty sure you just heard keys falling to the floor. It makes you wonder again where the hell you are, but your eyes feel so heavy that you can’t find it in yourself to open them and check for the source of the noise. You just really, really, want to go back to sleep.

“Goddamn it, fucking stupid-” 

There’s more noises and more cursing, but you just really don’t care right now. Worst case scenario, those were not keys and someone’s in you apartment trying to rob you. But by the sounds of it, they actually seem like the most incompetent thieves you could ever imagine, so… whatever. You even feel a little bad for them.

A low mumbling interrupts you sympathetic thoughts towards the hypothetical criminals. “Clarke? What the fuck are you doing on the couch?”

Oh. The couch.

That makes sense.

Your voice is hoarse and barely comprehensive when you whisper, “What the fuck are you doing on the door” as an answer. You’re eyes are still shut, but by now you’ve come to understand that the useless potential thief is no other than your roommate Raven. 

“That’s not an explanation.”

“ _You’re_ not an explanation.”

“Okay, that makes no sense.”

“ _You_ make no sense.”

“That was better.” She still sounds far, far away from you. “Are you hungover? Shit, are you still drunk?”

Realizing there’s no way you’re going to get anymore of the precious sleep you need, you resign yourself to open your eyes and push the upper part of your body up, resting your weight on your elbows. Raven is standing at the entrance of the living room, resting against the doorframe and looking at you with a judgmental stare.

Which, you think the moment you take a long look at her, is incredibly hypocritical taking into consideration her appearance.

“You look like shit.”

“Same goes to you.”

She comes to sit next to you on the couch. You realize you must have been sprawled on it sleeping soundly with half your body falling off the edge precariously, and you hand touching the floor. That explains a few things, the pain in your back being one of them. You also start to remember last night.

“I’m not drunk, or hungover or anything. I did extra hours until late at the hospital last night and when I came home apparently I didn’t have enough strength to even make it to the bedroom. Fuck, I was tired.”

“That’s sad. Sleeping in the couch on your own apartment is sad. That whole explanation is sad. Actually, you are-”

“Yep. Sad. Got it.” You interrupt her by smashing your hand on her face, and she gives you and offended look while she tries to slap your hand away. You give her shoulder a push, sending her towards the other end of the couch and then you sit properly, taking in her shirt and the dark circles under her eyes. “You’re wearing the same clothes you were wearing yesterday.”

She avoids your eyes. “You want coffee?” Without giving you time to answer, she moves to stand up, “I’ll go make a pot.”

You grab her by her arm, and force her to sit her ass back to the couch. She rolls her eyes and turns to you, receiving a raised brow and a silent question.

When you see that she’s not going to spill, you voice your assumptions.

“You had sex.”

She smirks. “I had sex.”

“You did the do.”

“I did the do, but you don’t know with who.”

You punch her on the arm, and she yelps. 

She stands up, stretching her arms in the process and yawning. Seeing her makes you yawn too, and you curse her silently because you really miss being asleep. She starts walking to the kitchen and you follow her because it seems you both have come to the conclusion that any resemblance of continuing this conversation is going to need insane amounts of coffee.

Raven makes the coffee. You just stare and make needy gestures with your hands towards the mug once it’s done. She passes it to you, and you drink half of the black liquid before turning to your roommate.

“I slept with Wick.” 

“The bartender? What the-”

She puts a hand up to stop you from talking and you stare at her with an opened your mouth, “And yes, I’m aware it was a really stupid thing to do. We were kinda drunk. Octavia and Lincoln left the bar. He was there.”

You busy yourself with drinking the coffee because it’s too early for this, and a look at the kitchen clock lets you know that you’ve gotten 4 hours of sleep.

So you drink and you keep your mouth shut for now.

“It’s fine. I told him I’m not really interested in anything serious and he took it well.”

You look at her skeptically, because Wick has been hitting on her for months and he’s kind of an ass. “So, he’s been an entitled jerk for as long as I know him, but because he took it well when you told him you would only fuck him once, he’s suddenly prince charming? Jeez Raven, I know you’re still screwed up about Finn but-”

“This has nothing to do with Finn.”

You sigh, grabbing to coffee pot to pour yourself another one. Everything has been about Finn since he broke up with Raven.

“Also, I’m free to do whatever the hell I want with whoever the hell I want, so maybe cool it down with the judgment, okay?” You open your mouth to defend yourself, or to apologize, you don’t know which one, but Raven cuts you off, “You know what, I don’t wanna keep talking about this with you.”

She places her mug in the sink, turning her back to you. 

Your head is buzzing. You feel like shit, because your best friend is clearly still hurting and the only way she knows how to deal with it is jumping from guy to guy _and you went and criticized her for it._ You realize that even though your opinion is that Raven needs to find someone who means more to her than an easily forgettable one night stand, maybe that’s not what she needs. Maybe this is exactly what she needs.

“I’m sorry.” You approach her and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “I’m an idiot, and you shouldn’t let me talk at all unless I’m fully awake and mentally capable of thinking.”

She turns slightly towards you, a small reluctant small on her lips. “Then you would never talk.”

“Rude.”

She turns around fully, and you’re surprised to find yourself suddenly embraced by Raven’s arms, tightly wrapped around you. 

“I’m sorry too.” She sniffles in your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, you have all the permission in the world to call me out when I do stupid shit.”

“Then I would never stop talking.”

“But…” she continues totally ignoring you, while she steps back and stares at a spot on your shirt next to your collarbone, avoiding your eyes, “just, not right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

She nods, and she gives you one last smile while she walks towards the door of the kitchen.

“I’m going to bed. God, I need to sleep for at least two days before I feel like a human being again.”

You stare at her confused as she walks past you. “You just had coffee.”

She gives you a puzzled look. “What does that have to do anything?”

You shrug, and she leaves you standing there still in your clothes from yesterday and an empty mug in your hand.

****

There has been a car accident. Two cars completely destroyed and five fucked up patients are the result. You have not stopped working, mostly helping the doctors, for the last five hours, and you are really stressed and really desperate to just lay down and rest for a couple of months.

But you push through your fatigue and order yourself to keep on going. 

The truth is, you like doing this. It gives you a sense of accomplishment. It makes you feel like you’re helping. Like what you do matters.

The madness passes, as it always does, and the ER goes back to its usual dull rhythm of patients.

You take a look at your watch, realizing it’s actually a lot later that you expected and sigh because you need a break, so you start dragging your feet to the staff room. You’ve checked the patient list, and no one needs you for at least fifteen minutes. You can work with that.

A moan escapes your mouth the moment your body lands on the couch. Holy shit, this is good. This is exactly what you need.

“I… was going to get in here and chill with you, but the noises you’re making are kind of scaring me off a little.”

Lincoln.

You groan again. “Your loss.”

He chuckles, and comes to sit on the opposite sofa, in front of you, putting his feet up on the coffee table. You are about to scorn him, but you’re so tired that the only thought in your brain is ‘oh, what the hell’. A comfortable silence stretches between the two of you, while you try not to nod off.

“Oh, I forgot. The clumsy tall brunette came by a couple hours ago. I removed her stitches.”

You snuggle into the soft fabric of the couch, still refusing to open your eyes and barely registering his words. “Mmm? Brunette?”

“Yeah. You know, the girl who almost cut off her own hand trying to cook spaghetti.”

“Lexa?”

You figure he’s nodding, because he doesn’t say anything.

“She’s cute.” You say it without hesitation, because it’s the truth.

“She’s a human disaster.”

You snort, turning finally to look at him. He’s smiling, his feet still on the table and his hands now behind his head. He does that to show off his biceps sometimes, and you roll your eyes. 

“Exactly. Cute.”

He gets up a few seconds later, and walks towards the coffee machine, pressing a couple of buttons. After a moment, noises of bad coffee brewing fill the room.

“She seemed disappointed that I was the one she got stuck with. Something about how she thought you’d be the one to take out the stitches.”

You don’t really know what to say to that. “Yeah, I also figured I’d do it, but the accident happened.”

“Don’t worry, I told her you had really important matters, and that it was killing you not being able to be the one to tend to her hand.”

“You did not.”

He laughs at your glare.

“Nah, I told her you’d completely forgotten about her.”

You let your head drop against the couch again and decide to ignore him. He can take his bad jokes to another room.

While you turn your back to him and continue to drool on the soft blue material, you think that it would’ve been nice to have been able to talk to the girl again. 

* * *

4.

Gustus drops by the apartment on a Friday morning with an overly excited Aden. You’ve cleared up your evenings as much as possible, because even though you trust Anya with your life, you’re not really sure you trust her with your brother’s.

The conversation you’d had with her about Aden had been interesting.

“Wait, now I have to babysit a twelve year old, too? But I have enough with you.”

She’d grumpily agreed in the end, but only after you’d promised to do her laundry for two months.

“Also, you owe me one.”

“One what?”

“I don’t know, I’m saving it for the future.”

“That does not make me want to trust you.”

“It’s not supposed to.”

So you pretty much knew you’d end up regretting it, but for now you’d just enjoy Anya terrified face at the prospect of being alone with a kid, or what she lovingly called ‘a spawn of Satan’.

Oh, you were going to enjoy that very much.

Aden hugs you with a small smile, and hands you the shuffle bag. He then walks past you and goes straight to the kitchen to raid your cupboards. 

Great. 

You close the door silently laughing, and go take the bag to your room. You’ve made peace with the fact that you’re going to be sleeping on the couch for two weeks. Anya had taken the other room, so someone had to be sacrificed. 

Your best friend had argued fiercely that you were the best choice. “You wake up at the butt crack of dawn every day anyway. Dude, if I were sleeping on the couch and you woke me up because you had to go do your lame-ass morning run, I’d throw you out the window.”

You go back to the kitchen, were Aden is sitting on the counter, a package of cookies on his hands and his mouth full.

“That’s not an appropriate way of eating.”

He responds by throwing you a cookie, and you grab it easily with your hand. You take a bite while squinting your eyes at him.

“Don’t you have homework to do?”

“Nope.”

“Well, okay. Considering you’ve already eaten half of my snacks, I think we should go do some grocery shopping. So get down from there and let’s go before Anya comes back from work.” You finish your cookie and turn to leave, stopping briefly to turn to him. “Also, ask permission before you eat my cookies next time. God, were you raised in a barn?”

Aden smirks and gets down from the counter. He hands you the now empty plastic package, gives you another quick hug, and runs in the direction of your room, returning barely seconds later.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

****

Anya comes back home while the both of you are storing the food, the scene complete with singing and air drums using the asparagus you just bought. You think for a moment about the fact that you unconsciously considered this Anya’s home, even though the initial agreement was for her to stay just for a few weeks, but you smile to yourself because it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. It feels nice to think that this could be a thing, you and Anya living together, maybe as a more permanent thing.

Aden stops singing mid-sentence when he notices your best friend on the door looking at the both of you with a perturbed expression.

“Anya!”

“Hey kid.”

She awkwardly pats his head as a greeting, and proceeds to sit on a chair grabbing the bag of chips you and Aden had opened to snack on. She eats half the bag in the ten minutes it takes you and him to finish storing the food.

Once it is done and there’s still a bit of time until you and Anya have to decide which take out you’re going to compromise on, you send him to the couch to watch some TV, while you turn to her.

“I’m beat, how about we grab a movie and some Chinese and fall dead on the couch?”

“Don’t you have some books to read for class? You know, Shakespeare or some bullshit like that?”

“Aden ignores his homework, I can ignore it too.”

“I really don’t think that’s how it works.” She approaches the fridge and grabs the excessive number of take-out brochures. “Also, it’s pizza night. Screw your Chinese.”

She starts going through them, you suppose she’s trying to find the pizza place one. “Oh shit, by the way, I didn’t tell you cause I forgot, but tonight I’m going out with friends from college. I haven’t seen some of them in ages.”

“Wait, you’re telling me you architects actually go out… and have fun?”

“Yes. You see, none of us have decent jobs so we have a lot of free time.”

You consider her words with a serious face. “That makes sense.”

She must have found the desired brochure to her needs because she’s humming appreciatively and nodding while reading pizza toppings.

“Although I have the feeling you might be trying to dodge your newfound responsibilities as co-parent in this household.”

“You talking about the snot in the couch?”

A snort escapes your throat. “If by that you mean my little brother, yes.”

“Oh no, I’m really excited to spend time with him. So excited. Yes.” She manages a small that looks more like a grimace. “It’s really a pity that I can’t be here with you guys tonight. To spend time. Family ti-”

“Stop, please. You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep trying to smile like that.”

You approach her and take the papers from her hands, finding what you’re looking for in immediately. “But, if you’re ditching me, I get to pick the food. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

You smile at her and start walking towards the TV sounds, Anya following close behind you.

Aden also wants Chinese. 

Anya grumbles for a while but accepts it when you volunteer yourself to call the place and order. She’s happy to avoid that job, so she sits on the couch while looking cautiously at the twelve year old next to her.

After dinner, she goes to the bathroom to get ready for her the night, and you and Aden clean up the table and throw the empty containers in the trash. You’re debating what movie to watch when Anya enters the kitchen with her left side hair styled in beautiful elegant curls and her right side hair straight and still a bit damp.

You fight the urge to laugh. “You look like you could be on one of those weird fashion shows. Work the runway, girl.” She glares at you. “The bathrobe is not really doing it for me though.”

“Shut up.”

Aden starts running towards the bathroom. “Finally! I have to pee!”

“Hey! I’m not done!” She turns to you with an exasperated expression, and you can’t help laughing this time because she just looks so done. “Do you have my black blouse? The one that’s sexy but still makes you look like you’ve got your shit together.”

“I… don’t think so?”

“Well, I don’t believe you.” She ignores your offended splutter. “I don’t have it in my things, Lexa. And somehow I doubt Aden has stolen it to wear it on Monday at school.”

“Well, you never know…”

“Lexa! Give me my damn sexy blouse.”

“Oh god, how am I supposed to give you something that _I don’t have_.”

Her answer is cut off by a scream, and your heart jumps to your throat.

Aden.

You don’t lose time in pushing Anya aside roughly and racing to the bathroom, almost crashing into the door. Opening it, you find your brother on the floor cradling his foot. His face is contorted in pain.

“What happened?” You crouch, getting closer to him and trying to see the skin under his hands. He’s barefoot. “Aden, let me see. I need to see if you’re okay.”

He allows you to remove his hands and you gasp at the burn underneath.

“I stepped on Anya’s curling hair satanic machine.”

****

It wasn’t that bad. 

You kept repeating it to yourself.

Because, it was true. It wasn’t that bad.

Still, you’re taking Aden to the hospital. And, holy shit, are you upset. 

“Lexa, you’re scaring me. I told you it doesn’t hurt that much now. Please, stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

You shake your head and you can’t help smile a little, because Aden is being so chill about the whole situation that it’s freaking you out. You’re the older sister. You’ve taken care of him most of his life.

And you feel like you fucked up.

But weirdly, now you don’t feel like the older of the two, because while you’re hysterically urging Anya to drive faster, your brother is laughing even through the tears. He presses lightly on the wound with one finger, hissing at the contact. “It looks so gross.”

“Then stop touching it.”

“But it’s fun.”

Anya drops you off at the hospital looking at you with a regretful expression and you cut her off before she can say anything. “It’s cool, Anya, really. It was not your fault. I’m not mad.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll call you when we get out and you can come pick us up. I think it’d be a while, though.”

She shoots you a teasing smile. “Well, you’re the expert.”

“Fuck off.”

You give Aden a piggyback ride into the ER, where you sit on the uncomfortable chairs mentally preparing yourself for the wait. You’re starting to get really good at this.

This time it doesn’t take that much time, there are less people on the waiting room, and soon enough you find yourself carrying Aden to a bed in the big white room you’ve come to know fairly well.

You see Lincoln walking towards another bed, and he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you, his face splitting into a huge smile.

You like him. He’s laid back and he got you to stop twitching every time his hand got close to your stitches the last time.

He nods at you and you point to your brother, trying to avoid the embarrassment of him thinking you’ve hurt yourself again.

He laughs, and you shrug, because what can you do.

You watch him disappear behind a door, and you wait anxiously. Aden starts playing with the strings of your hoodie and you’re really proud of him right now for taking it all so well.

God knows you weren’t as calm as a kid when you got hurt.

Not even now, you think while chuckling.

“Aden Woods?”

A nurse you don’t reacognize is walking towards you and you nod. “I’m his sister. Lexa Woods.”

The woman gets closer to inspect the burned zone, and you open your mouth to explain the cause, because that’s always important, but your eyes catch a blur of blonde hair and you freeze.

Clarke comes running with a smile on her face, and calls the nurse by her name when she’s close enough.

“I’ll take this one, Maya. Can you please go check out what’s going on in Box 5, Lincoln was asking for you.”

The nurse smiles at her and nods. “On it.”

You watch her leave, and busy yourself with Aden, so Clarke doesn’t think you were eavesdropping on the conversation. A nervous feeling starts bubbling up in your chest, because you hadn’t really thought about Clarke Griffin since Lincoln told you weeks ago that she would not be the one taking out your stitches. You had figured that’d be the end of it.

But now she’s standing again in front of you with her charming smile and you want to drown in her blue eyes. 

You push those thoughts aside with a forceful shake of your hade and turn to look at her trying not to look like a creep. She’s just doing her job, after all.

“Hi.”

“Hello Lexa,” you feel her eyes studying your face, but then she quickly diverts her attention towards the bed. “And who is your handsome companion?”

He extends his hand professionally and you snort. “Woods, Aden Woods.”

Clarke chuckles, but plays along extending her own hand and shaking his. “Griffin, Clarke Griffin. Nice to meet you, sir.”

He looks at her like he’s just seen an angel, and although you can’t really blame him, you have to subtly put a hand over your mouth to control you amusement and not laugh. 

He’s now proudly showing Clarke the burn as if it were a war wound and you feel instantly calmer because the nurse is listening to him talk with a sincere expression and taking the whole thing so seriously, and it makes you feel better about being in the hospital with Aden.

“But it doesn’t hurt at all. I haven’t even cried.”

“Wow. Now that’s impressive.”

You shake your head at him from behind Clarke and he gives you a smile full of teeth.

You didn’t cry. Sure, buddy.

“…family, I’m guessing.” 

Diverting your eyes from your brother to the blonde on your side, you notice she was talking to you. But you honestly didn’t caught any of that.

“…huh?”

She must decide to go easy on you, because she just repeats the question without teasing you about completely zoning out.

“I was just saying that I’m guessing it runs in the family.” You frown, still confused, until you see she’s pointing at the injury on Aden’s foot.

You can feel the pout on your mouth regardless of how much you try to make it go away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Huh. You don’t, now?”

“Nope.”

“Must have confused you with a girl that I’ve seen around. You know, your height, brunette, not very agile, kind of accident prone…”

“Hey!” She seems to be enjoying your offended expression too much, and you glare playfully and point a finger at her as a threat. “Disrespectful.” She puts her hands up as if surrendering. “Also, I’m very agile, thank you very much.”

Aden seems to think he’s not getting enough attention, because he starts whining and moving his foot around, and Clarke gets an apologetic look on her face. She starts treating it immediately.

“I’m going to apply an antibiotic ointment on it. I’m warning you it will hurt a little, but from what you’ve told me, you’re really tough.” Aden nods, and it’s so clear that he’s scared as hell, but he’s being so good, and you sit next to him, holding his hand and giving it a squeeze. “You are so, so brave. And it’s gonna pass in a few seconds. Just a moment, and we can put a bandage on it, and you can go home and your sister is gonna give you lots of chocolate.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, and she catches your eyes and sticks her tongue out at you.

Clarke keeps talking, asking stuff to your brother and telling him stories in an over-exited voice while she works on applying the ointment and dressing the wound. And you’re eternally grateful, because Aden seems so in love with her and so calm that he doesn’t complain once about the pain.

Clarke explains to you how to change the bandages. “Once a day. Twice if you deem it necessary. Also, try to avoid getting it wet. Or dirty.”

You only nod, not sure what else to say.

She turns to Aden. “And to you, we’re going to give you some kick-ass crutches, so you’re not getting out of going to school.”

He sulks. “But I wanted piggyback rides.”

You squeeze his hand again. “Sorry, buddy.”

Clarke leaves to get the crutches, and you think of a way to tell him what you’ve been thinking about for the last ten minutes.

“Okay. So Nurse Clarke said in a couple of weeks your foot will be okay, so… how about we keep this thing a secret. Gustus will only worry if we tell him and he’s capable of coming running to get you, so… what do you say?”

Aden looks at you skeptically. “You just don’t want to get in trouble.”

Fucking children. 

You bite your lip while you think about ways to blackmail your brother into keeping his mouth shut, but Aden laughs and keeps talking before you reach any answer.

“But yeah, I’m cool with that plan. I mean, it was me who stepped into the stupid thing, so I’m sure he’ll have a good rant about me not being careful enough and not watching were I put my feet, and always going barefoot at home when there are potential dangers on the floor, and ughhh.”

You stare at him a perplexed. Man, who knew kids this day had it this hard. 

Someone being on your grill about those things all day sounded exhausting.

“So, I accept. I won’t tell Gustus about it.” You nod, grateful, but then notice his evil half-grin, and you narrow your eyes at him. “But I want ice-cream.”

Clarke comes back when you’re about to answer him, and you get up from the bed.

“Okay, tomorrow I’ll buy you all the ice-cream you want.”

“But I don’t wanna wait till tomorrow.”

“Kid, it’s late now.”

He whines, and you notice Clarke is staring at the two of you with an amused expression.

“But I want ice-cream.”

You sigh. Really, it’s not that big of a deal, he could be asking for something much worse in exchange for his silence on the injury situation.

“Okay, we’ll find a 24 hour grocery store.”

Clarke clears her throat, and you think she’s probably trying to hurry you along to leave because there are other more important patients, but she surprises you. “There’s one a couple of streets near.”

Aden grabs Clarke’s sleeve and looks up at her with big, hopeful eyes. “Can you take me to the ice-cream?”

She laughs, and turns to look at you with a questioning look. 

“Aden, Clarke’s working. She can’t.”

“Actually,” you turn to look at her, and you think she looks nervous for the first time since you’ve met her, “I’ve already finished my shift. I was just staying around because I need extra hours. But I am definitely too tired, so I can take you to the store while I head home.”

“No,” Aden surprises you both with his demanding voice, “you get ice-cream too. We all have ice-cream.”

You and Clarke look at each other with badly hided smiles, and you ask her silently what her answer is. She seems to understand your expression, because she nods. A faint blush seems to be appearing on her cheeks, but she turns her head towards Aden too fast for you to swear it was really there.

“Tell you what, I go change really quick, you guys wait at the hospital entrance and we go get ice-cream.”

“Yes!”

You think that you’ve have weird nights. Really, really, weird nights. Once you drank three coffees at 1 am because you had a mid-term and you were planning on studying all night, and you started hallucinating. Another time you’d gotten drunk at a friend’s house and you’d woken up in the kitchen floor.

But somehow, you still don’t understand _how_ , this night has all the numbers to gain a damn good spot at the top ten of the list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... guess who doesn't hate kids that much after all...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... fuck college AMIRITE
> 
> Also,
> 
> Clarke Griffin never dated Finn in this fic.

_‘Tell you what, I go change really quick, you guys wait at the hospital entrance and we go get ice-cream’_

Those words had actually come out of your mouth barely ten minutes ago and now you seriously wonder if you had been in your right mind. You don’t feel drugged though. Maybe you did seriously made the conscious decision to say _that._

You splash some water in your face once inside the bathroom.

Subconsciously (or at least that’s what you tell yourself), you check yourself on the mirror. Do you look okay? You don’t want to go buy ice-cream with Lexa is you’re looking like a hobo who hasn’t slept in months, has bags under her eyes big enough to go grocery shopping with them, and whose breath smells like ketchup or something equally weird. Even though that’s exactly what your look like. Like the guy on the subway who hasn’t brushed his hair since Obama was elected president.

You put a hand in front of your mouth, and sigh relieved when the air that comes out of it smells perfectly normal.

Maybe you’re blowing things a bit out of proportion.

Or maybe you’re not…

But you probably are. You’re fucking tired, after being up on your feet for 12 hours. And still, a warm feeling spreads though your chest at the thought of going to a 24h grocery store in the middle of the night with Lexa.

Lexa, who is a patient.

With a forcefully shake of your head, you push those thoughts away. It doesn’t matter right now, you’re off hours, and she wasn’t even the one hurt today.

You realize that you’re probably just looking for excuses to bail out, because now that you really think about it… did Lexa even want you to come? Aden did, but maybe Lexa was just being polite?

With your hand, you style your hair as best as you can, and you slid the leather jacket on top of your sweater. After another glance at the mirror, you smirk. You look hot, and Lexa has noticed already if her subtle looks are anything to go by.

Polite your ass. 

 

****

 

When you arrive at the entrance of the hospital, Lexa and Aden are having a “sword” battle with his crutches, and you stare at them stunned for a while. The fact that he has only one foot on the ground and he’s swaying dangerously while jumping around doesn’t seem to faze either of them.

You get closer and decide to interfere when Aden kicks her sister on her face with the piece of rubber on the end of the metal object.

“Woah, okay! Lay down your weapons, I am _not_ patching up anyone else today.”

Lexa has the decency to look embarrassed. She touches her chin, the spot where Aden’s hit landed successfully and she glares at him discretely. She alternates between looking remorseful, avoiding your eyes, and shooting dirty looks at her brother, while Aden grins smugly.

“You know what, I’m starting to understand a lot more these regular trips to the local hospital.” Lexa turns to you with a small smile and red cheeks, and you can’t help yourself. “And here I though you just came to see me.”

Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but enough for you to notice, and you laugh letting her know that you’re just joking around. She relaxes a little, and turns to look at Aden, who is now walking with the crutches in circles around the both of you.

“Okay, are we gonna get that ice-cream or what. I’m hungry.”

Lexa nods at your words, and starts walking down the street, until she must realize that she doesn’t actually know what direction you’re going, so she just stops abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk and waits for you with a muddled expression.

You catch up to her, and Aden follows behind you, balancing his weight unsteadily on the crutches but with more dexterity that you were expecting. The three of you walk at a slow pace for a few minutes without a word.

But it’s not awkward. 

The night is fairly warm, with the characteristically pleasant temperature of October, and there’s still light. It doesn’t feel like it’s late.

You make a turn at the next street, and soon enough, you spot the red and green fluorescent light of the sign. You look at Lexa as you’re approaching the store. “So do you do this often?”

“The ice-cream part or the hanging out with nurses in the middle of the night?”

You pretend to think about it with a contemplative look. “Both?”

“Then yes, I do both activities regularly.”

“Are the other nurses pretty?”

She nods eagerly, and bites her lip. “So pretty. Beautiful, all of them. Also, really funny and intelligent.”

“Well, then that’s just not fair.”

Lexa snorts, and looks at you with a glint in her eye, about to answer something (and you really want to know that it is) when Aden pushes between the two of you screaming. “Ice-cream!”

He goes into the store, Lexa and you following right behind with a concerned expression at his speed.

“Is he on something? Did you drug my brother?”

“Hey, you were there! I did not.” You’re walk until the end of the pasta aisle and turn to your left, towards the frozen isle and you beam at her. “But just for the record, if I had drugged him, I would have drugged you too. You know, to make sure there are no witnesses of this night.”

“Mhmm. Smart.”

“As smart as your other nurses?”

“You wish.”

“Damn.” Aden has found his target before you and Lexa got there, and you’re impressed but not surprised. He stares at the different boxes with his hands on the transparent plastic. His crutches are on the floor, long forgotten, and he stands on his right foot.

“There are cones with M&M’s.”

Lexa nods with a satisfied expression. “Good enough,” she opens the door of the freezer and grabs the box full of ice-creams that Aden is pointing at. “Glad you could make that decision quickly, it’s freaking cold in here.”

She pays for it once you all get to the check-out, where a bored twenty-something guy looks at her a plain expression and continues to look at the wall once you start heading out. You suspect he might be dead inside.

“So…” Lexa glances at you a couple of times before continuing and you wonder if she’s nervous, “do you need to head home?”

“Why? You got any wild plans?”

She maintains a serious expression. “Yes, I do actually.”

You notice she’s walking towards a specific direction and you decide to follow her without thinking about it.

“An underground poker room?”

“Almost.” She stops and turns to you. “The park.”

“Well, that’s even better.” You do remember a park being in the area somewhere. You’re surprised when she starts walking more decidedly down the street, realizing she must know of its location. “But are there underground poker games at this park?”

She laughs, a carefree grin on her face. “Why? You think you’d have a shot if there were?”

“I’d manage.”

“So you think you’re a good liar?”

That’s a loaded question, but you laugh because you understand she’s messing with you.

“I know I am better than you.” She gives you a confused look. “You blush when you lie.”

“I do not!”

Aden, who’s jumping around ahead of you, stops and waits for the two of you to catch up with him, before asking Lexa for the ice-cream with an impatient voice.

“You can’t eat if you’re on your crutches. That’s just unrealistic and stupidly dangerous.”

“But I’m tired of them. My hand hurts.”

You come to the conclusion that he knows exactly what buttons to push on Lexa because two minutes later she’s giving him a piggyback ride while he eats one of the six cones of the box, and you have to make an effort to not crack a laugh.

It makes you worry for a bit about her back, but even though he’s pretty tall you realize he’s all bones, he must not weight that much. Lexa seems okay with it, so you follow them wordlessly.

“Kid, if you drop chocolate on my hair, I’m going to kill you,” he continues smiling and eating, totally ignoring her, “with Anya’s curling iron.” 

His smile drops.

The park appears not long after, and Lexa sits Aden on one of the swings. He’s already finished the ice-cream, so he tells Lexa he doesn’t need her anymore, and she responds with an offended look.

“Well, then I’m going to talk to someone who actually appreciates me, thank you very much.” He shrugs, and she sticks her tongue out at him. “So rude.”

You’re standing a few feet away and she walks right up to you, pointing towards a bench not far away. 

“So I’m the someone who actually appreciates you?”

She blushes, but she answers seriously. “You better be.”

You sit on the bench, watching Aden swing recklessly and you pray this doesn’t end with another trip to the hospital.

“When I was younger, I used to jump from it when it reached the top.”

Lexa looks at you like you’re crazy, blinking several times before she says something. “Okay, you’ve officially lost all right to judge me.”

A comfortable silence spreads between the two of you. She seems to remember suddenly why you’re here because she makes an ‘oh’ sound and gives you one M&M’s ice-cream cone, and she takes another for her. She then adopts an apologetic grimace.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think being on a park at night with a kid was what you planned to do on a Friday night.”

“It’s cool, don’t worry.” You sigh, a content smile on your face. “I don’t think they’d let me in on the illegal poker games anyway. So this is not a bad alternative. I like it.”

She gives you a weird look, half-skeptical. “Why?”

You lick the chocolate flavored ice-cream, thinking about a reply that makes sense but doesn’t sound completely depressive.

“Because my life has been kind of exhausting lately. I barely see my friends since Lincoln and Octavia, one of my best friends got together,” you point what you hope is an intimidating finger at her, “also, no matter what he might say, it was me who made that happen.”

“My roommate, Raven,” you stop, trying to gather your thoughts, “we’re not on our best moment. I don’t know, it just… she’s been going through a rough time and I feel like nothing I do helps…”

“What happened?” Lexa licks the ice-cream and you become entranced for a few seconds too long. She looks totally unware, though. “I mean, if it’s something you don’t want to discuss with me I totally understand.”

“Her boyfriend broke up with her. They had been together for years.”

“He was an asshole?”

You consider the question and quickly shake your head. Because Finn was not an asshole. No one had been an asshole. That was the problem.

“No, he’s a good guy. Kinda dense sometimes, “Lexa laughs softly, but quickly sobers up, “but a good guy. He just realized one day that he’d fallen out of love.”

She stares solemnly at the ground, a frown on her face. You wonder what she’s thinking about.

She speaks a few seconds later. “It was worse.”

You nod.

“So you were saying something about me being the best company you have been around ever?”

“Oh yeah. That’s right.” You both laugh awkwardly. “I work a lot of hours at the hospital. My mom and I have never had a wonderful relationship, especially this last year.”

She stares at you, maybe waiting for an explanation, but this time you don’t offer one.

“It’s complicated. Actually, it’s not, but… I don’t know.”

“Well, of you put it like that… You’re welcome for my presence.”

“Okay, let’s not get cocky.” You bump your shoulder against hers. “It’s just nice to be with someone who doesn’t really know me. I mean, I’m practically a stranger to you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I don’t know you…”

You stare at her, an unspoken challenge in your raised brow. “You think you do?”

“Maybe.” She doesn’t say anything else, though, and you continue staring at her quizzically, until she giggles and gives in. “I know you like to take care of people, that’s why you’re a good nurse, I know you love your friends a lot, I know you don’t sleep enough, because you always look hangover,” you open your mouth to interrupt her, offended, but ultimately accept she’s right, “your parents expect a lot of you, probably? Maybe your mom, that’s why your relationship is not so good…? Oh! You’ve probably watched High School Music unironically a few times. And I’d guess you like upbeat radio songs, you know, those that are just the same sentence repeated over and over with some cheesy music.”

You stare at her with your mouth still half-opened.

“So did I get anything right?”

You lie. “No.”

“Ah, shame.”

You turn to her, with narrowed eyes and a newfound sense of purpose. “You’re scared of needles.”

Lexa huffs, and grabs another ice-cream cone.

“You’re clumsy.”

“I’m not.”

“Hmm. You probably like to read.”

Lexa seems impressed. “I’m an English major.”

You throw your fist in the air. “Yes.”

She stares at you. “Okay, what else?”

“That’s all I got.”

Lexa snorts, and you give her a proud smile while shrugging. Whatever, you’re awful at reading people.

You go back to the comfortable silence while she finishes her ice-cream.

Her phone rings startling the both of you. She takes it out of her pocket with a confused expression and her widen when she sees the name on the screen, wincing in such an adorable way that you can’t help but giggle.

She whispers to you. “It’s Anya. Is it bad that I had completely forgotten about her?”

She doesn’t give you time to answer her, though, because she’s putting the phone to her ear. You wouldn’t have known how to answer anyway. The question stays in your mind for a while, until you force yourself to stop thinking about it, and focus your attention on the words coming out of Lexa’s mouth, and the conversation she’s having with the other girl.

“-at a park. Aden’s fault. I was just about to call you.” You give her a disbelieving look and she laughs, shushing you with a finger to her mouth, “Yes I’m here… Okay, don’t worry, we’ll meet you in front of the hospital.” She huffs and scowls for a bit. “Yes, we’re going right now, don’t be annoying. Well, more annoying than usual-”

She stops abruptly and looks at her phone.

“She hung up on me.” You snicker at her outraged expression. “Bitch.”

You stand up and Lexa does the same, going straight to Aden, who keeps swinging maniacally. “Hey, bud. The devil called, we gotta go.”

He accepts it easily, probably because he’s starting to be tired, and it’s kinda late.

You spend the walk back to the hospital listening to Lexa and Aden bicker about everything and anything, and it brings a strange warmth on your chest that you decide to ignore completely because nothing about this night makes any sense, so why would this.

Lexa stops when you make the last turn, about to walk into the hospital’s street, and you turn to her disconcerted. 

“Just wanted to say thank you. For.. you know, everything.” She points towards Aden’s foot. “And also the trip to the store.”

You nod, unsure of how to respond. “My pleasure.”

She rolls her eyes.

You touch her arm as she’s about to continue walking, stopping her effectively.

“I was thinking,” she looks at you intrigued and you gain a bit of courage, “I’ll let you my number. You know, as a huge favor. That way, if you happen to accidentally almost die again, maybe I can help.”

Her eyes widen. She always does that when she’s nervous, and you now regret not adding that to the list of things you knew about her during the conversation at the park.

“I’m just saying, maybe one day you arrive at the hospital and I’m not there, or I’m not the nurse assigned to you. Think about it, that would suck. What would you do then?”

“…Survive?”

“Oh, no. You may have some other prettier nurses, but I’m telling you, I’m the best.”

She chuckles, amused by your stupid sarcastic rambling.

“Well, then I guess it’s only fair you’d have the honor of having my number too.”

You gasp dramatically. “You really think I’ve earn that privilege?”

“To be honest, I’m still deciding.”

She hands you her phone, with the contacts page open, and you easily add your number. Once you’re done, she does the same in your phone.

You’ve gotten a girl’s number before. A few times. But goddamn it, this feels like more.

Is this two potential friends exchanging numbers? It is definitely not a pre-hook-up situation in which you know you’re about to use the number as a booty call. Does Lexa really think you want her to have your number for the possibility that she gets hurt again? Because that’s dumb. That was dumb, actually, now that you think about it. Dumb-ass excuse.

But at the same time, it doesn’t really matter to you?

You’ll take things as they come. And while you’re not really in a place where you want _something serious_ to happen, you’re also not really looking for a one-night stand with Lexa. So you’ll take the friendship, or the whatever the hell it is you’re both doing.

A car honking rudely interrupts your thoughts.

“So Anya has arrived, discretely as always.” Lexa has a hand over her face and shakes her head embarrassed.

“I’m going to think I’m letting you in good hands, and take my leave.” You smile at her. “Goodnight, Lexa.”

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

Aden gives you a quick surprising hug, and then he’s off jumping towards the car with only one crutch while Lexa carries the other and threatens him with it.

 

****

 

When you arrive home it’s almost midnight, and Raven is sprawled on the couch with her laptop on her tights.

“Hey,” she looks up at you curiously, “thought you’d died.”

You shrug out of your jacket, leaving it on a chair you find on the way to the couch. “I wouldn’t be so blasé if I were you about that. Who would pay my half of the rent? You’d drown in debt.”

“Shit, you’ve got a point.”

You sit next to her, and let you head fall on her shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just trying to decide if I watch another episode of Parks and Recs that I’ve probably seen a million times or I stop playing it safe and start a new show.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I said I’d stop playing it safe.” She has a serious look in her eyes, and she adds with a straight face, “it could be dangerous.”

“I see.”

“What about you shift? Anything cool?”

“Actually,” she turns towards you and you lift your head from her shoulder, with a smug grin, “I went to get ice-cream to a 24h grocery store with a girl and her brother, then went to the park, talked to the girl for a while, gave her my number, got her number. You know, the usual.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Nah.”

She seems to believe you, but she still stares at you skeptically. “So are you gonna call her?”

You stand up, gabbing the leather jacket on the way to you room. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” She sounds exasperated, and you laugh.

“Maybe.”

You wink at her, and go to your bed, where you collapse unceremoniously. God, you’re tired.

You barely hear Raven from the living room because you’re starting to nod off, but her voice is so loud it is impossible not to. “DON’T BE A DICK, GRIFFIN. NOBODY APPRECIATES DICKS.” There’s a few seconds of silence. “I don’t think that came out right.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a month and I'm so sorry o_o
> 
> also, this chapter is long and idk what happened  
> I'll try to wrap this up in three more chapters or so!

The sports duffle bag falls to the floor with a soft thud the moment you step into the apartment. Closing the door behind you with your foot, you walk into the living room to find Anya sitting in the couch, a bowl of cereal and milk on her lap and still in her sleeping clothes. 

Ha. ‘Clothes’. It’s just an old large T-shirt.

And underwear. At least, you hope.

“Glad you’re moving on, but I’m not really interested, thanks.” She looks up to you confused for a minute before she scowls. “Also, for the next time… this would be way more sexy without the milk dribbling down your chin. Still, I’m not saying it wouldn’t have worked out a few years ago, I mean-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Remembering the bag full of sweaty clothes, you turn towards the door chuckling. You can feel Anya glaring at your back but choose to ignore it because _there’s still milk on her chin_ and you’re just going to start laughing hysterically and basically die a painful slow death.

Nah, thank you very much.

Once your soccer gear is taken to your room, and you’ve changed into comfy clothes, you walk to the kitchen while running you fingers through your wet hair. Maybe you should dry it a little, but you’re too tired to care.

Your cookies are all gone. Vanished. And you roll your eyes because you’re paying a big price here for having your brother around.

“ ‘ve you c’lled hea.” 

Anya is leaning on the kitchen door frame, still no pants on, and the bowl of cereal still in her hands. Her mouth is full, and she slurs sounds with a deadpan expression and a nod towards your phone on the countertop.

The incomprehensible sentence is followed by more words jammed together in an effort to mean something, but you just do not understand for your life what _that_ is.

Anya nods stubbornly. 

You furrow your brows.

She sighs and finishes the huge spoon of Lucky Charms, swallowing exaggeratedly. 

“Have you called the nurse yet?”

Opening every single cupboard, you realize there are no snacks that have survived, and you sigh. By this point you’re completely ignoring Anya’s words.

You grab an apple and walk towards the door, passing right beside Anya and continuing to the couch. She follows you, and you start counting down from twenty waiting for her to ask again.

“You’re really annoying, you know that? I’m trying to offer you help, clearly you need some.”

She sits next to you and continues munching on her cereal. You check your watch, because you need to pick up Aden from school and you groan when you realize you only have half an hour.

“First of all. Don’t you dare spill some of that milk on my couch. Gross.” She connects her elbow with your ribs and you wince. “Ouch. And secondly, whether I call Clarke or I don’t call Clarke is my business.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Did you call her or not?”

A grunt escapes your throat. To be honest, you don’t even know who you are frustrated with. Your stupid best-friend-turned-roommate, or yourself. It’s been days since… you don’t even know what to call that night.

It’s been days since Clarke and you exchanged numbers. 

“No, I haven’t.”

But the thing is, Clarke hasn’t called you either. 

“You know, normally people give their number to other people for a reason. And, call me crazy if you want, but I actually think that maybe, I don’t know, she wanted you to call her.” You groan as your neck falls onto the back of the couch, because this is a conversation you had no interest in partaking in. “Also, maybe… there’s a chance that you’re an idiot.”

“Hey,” You already know that, you don’t need Anya reminding you, “she hasn’t called either.”

“Because she was the one who gave you her number. Do you expect her to do all the work?”

“Yes.”

Anya snorts. She continues eating out of her bowl with her big ass spoon, and you let yourself hope that the conversation is over.

“Idiot.”

“Anya,” you raise your head and sit upright, letting your arms fall on your knees, and looking her dead in the eye. “it was not like some big thing. She gave me her number just in case. She was _not_ flirting with me or anything. There’s nothing going on between us.” You make a point to emphasize each sentence with your hands.

Anya looks up at the ceiling for a long time. She looks exasperated. 

She rolls her eyes once she’s done praying or whatever the fuck she was doing. Probably not praying, she doesn’t know how to do that.

“You know you can still text people if they are your friends, right? It doesn’t have to mean anything.” She puts the now empty bowl on the table. “Friends text each other apparently, it’s pretty common. Not me, I don’t do that cheesy shit, but…” She shrugs.

“You text me when you’re drunk.”

“That does not count.”

Another look at the watch lets you know your half hour is up, and you really should put some decent clothes on if you want to step into the street. Anya is now ignoring you, probably because she has realized this topic has potential to air a lot of dirty laundry (after all, you have screen captures of every single drunk text you’ve received from her) and she has too much to lose. Like her dignity, among other things.

“I’m gonna get Aden.” You stand up, already missing the couch. “Try not to beak anything while I’m gone.”

She doesn’t seem to register your words until a moment later, when you’re already going into your room to get changed. 

“Bitch! I’m going to break your leg, how about that?” She laughs to herself for far too long before she can even get the next words out. “But wait! You probably wouldn’t need me for that, you’d break both your legs on your own falling down the stairs.” She keeps laughing. “Good one, high five Anya.”

 

****  


 

**Message from: Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 4:16 pm**  
_Hey_

You stare at your phone for what feels like minutes completely paralyzed, blinking but not taking your eyes off the screen. Clarke has texted you.

Also, for the first time, you see with what name she added herself in your contacts and your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

And apparently you’ve got another text, because your phone is vibrating again in your hand.

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 4:17 pm**  
_I thought you’d text me ):_  
_You promised you’d text_

You recover in time to send a response to the last message with a giddy feeling in your stomach and stupid smile on your face.

**Me 4:17 pm**  
_No, I didn’t._

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 4:18 pm**  
_Rude_

A car honking somewhere on your right (you check they are not honking _at you_ ; they’re not) reminds you that you’re in the middle of the street and the traffic light you were waiting on is already green.

You cross to the other side with the phone in your hand feeling it vibrate, and you have to stop yourself from checking it. You really don’t want to die like this.

Once you find it safe enough, you open the text.

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 4:19 pm**  
_"If you're wondering if there's a point to this conversation, there isn't"_

**Me 4:20 pm**  
_So you just wanted to make sure I hadn't given you a false number?_

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 4:20 pm**  
_You got it_

The truth is that you hadn’t texted her because you were nervous. And at first you just didn’t want to bother her barely hours after you had seen each other. So you let some time pass. But the more time passed, the harder it was to send the damn text, and you had been postponing it indefinitely until you just figured Clarke would forget about the whole thing. She was busy anyway.

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 4:21 pm**  
_so what are you wearing?_

You choke on air when the text appears on your phone screen, almost tripping on the sidewalk.

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 4:21 pm**  
_... I'm kidding btw_

Once you’ve recovered from her stupid teasing, you decide to play along, at least to avoid looking like she almost caused you a small heart attack.

**Me 4:22 pm**  
_Nothing._  
_I'm walking down the street on my way to get my brother from school completely naked ;)_

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 4:22 pm**  
_nice_

It is surprisingly easy talking to Clarke via messages, when you’ve barely talked to the girl a few times face to face.

And neither of those times had made you look especially good to her, you think. She probably thinks you’re incapable of walking on the sidewalk without bumping into someone and ending up face first into the ground.

You wouldn’t blame her.

But she asks you how you are, after she stops teasing you, and you tell her about your day, which is ridiculous because it’s not like you did anything worth mentioning. Still, she asks and before you realize it, you’re standing in front of Aden’s school and you’ve been texting her for a while.

**Me 4:34 pm**  
_I have to go get my brother, talk to you later!_

You write it without thinking much about it, and it’s not until a couple of minutes later, when you still have not gotten any response, that you wonder if assuming that you’d talk to her later was a little too much.

Or maybe you’d sounded rude?

Aden is not out yet and you stare at your phone intently. You should add an “if you want to” at the end. You should mayb-

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 4:36 pm**  
_I’ll be waiting ;)_

The air that had entered you lungs with your relieved intake of breath at the sight of the ‘Message from-’ thing is abruptly exhaled immediately when you read the words on the screen. 

You stare at them dumbfounded for a good minute because even though Clarke has been jokingly hitting on you for the last fifteen minutes, this is a lot.

You don’t have time to process it though, because Aden is in front of you in seconds, looking at your face with a raised eyebrow and a concerned expression.

“Lexa, you’re like, really red.”

You hit him lightly in the head, and grab the sleeve of his hoodie to tug him along towards a direction where there is space without parents and cars and _people_. He shrugs at your insistence and follows you all the way home, his eyes bored into you, and an amused expression of his face.

You ignore him.

You are _not_ red.

 

****

 

The texting keeps happening. It is now recurrent, and a totally normal thing the two of you do on a daily basis.

You don’t talk a lot, though, just basic stuff and a few jokes here and there.

She tells you about the weird things she sees on the hospital. You laugh because she has a way of complaining about things that you find really, really cute.

She sends you a picture one night of just her face, black circles under her eyes and a glare that conveys so much exhaustion you feel bad for her. She accompanies it with “I look like a raccoon.”

You respond with “but you’re a cute raccoon” and yet again you wonder if it might be a little too much.

When she texts back “actually, I kinda look like you did when you bashed your face against the floor, now THAT was a look” you just roll your eyes and chuckle.

You’re warming up your pizza leftovers from three days on the microwave like the pathetically poor student you are when the sound of a new message comes out of your phone on the table. You can’t help the little smile at the corner of your lips, because it hasn’t even been 5 hours since the last time you spoke to Clarke.

But the now soggy weird looking food requires your attention, and you’re starving, so you decide to wait until you’ve got it in your plate to respond.

Your phone makes the annoying sound again.

And again.

And by the sixth time in twenty seconds, you narrow your eyes at the device and extend a hand to grab it.

You don’t get to read the messages though, because suddenly the words “INCOMING CALL FROM ~LASANYA~” appear on the screen. 

“Yo, we have a problem.”

“Yeah, I kinda gathered that from the symphony of sounds coming out of my phone.”

“You know how today was my evening of babysitting the kid? Well, they changed my hours at work, I won’t be home until seven.”

You grab the still soggy and still weird looking but now colder piece of pizza and you take a bite while considering the situation. You chew fast to answer Anya.

“Seven is when I finish my class. Fuck, I can’t skip this one, it’s mandatory.”

“I know.” She is starting to sound a little distressed now, and you keep biting the pizza to try to get your brain to think of a solution. Food always helps, even if it’s… this kind of food. “Don’t you know someone who can look after him? It will only be a couple hours.”

You think about the girls on the team. Most of them have the same class you do, but you consider the others, trying to remember if they had said something lately about extra-curricular activities.

“I think I can call Harper.”

“That’d be great. I’m sorry, seriously! Also, my boss is looking at me really weird, so I’m just gonna hang up and keep taking fake coffee orders from hipsters.”

“Are you calling me while you’re working, Anya you’re gonna get f-”

The line is cut, and you’re left with your mouth still open and a half-chewed piece of pizza threatening to fall off of it.

Calling Harper doesn’t take a lot of time, but when she informs you that she has to go to work at the bakery, you start getting nervous.

Monroe is next, but she’s not picking up her phone and a text from Harper lets you know that she has a test tomorrow, so she’s probably at the library.

Everyone else you’d trust with your brother is either not reachable or occupied, and by the time you make the final call you’re in danger of being late to your class. You really need to get to campus.

Your phone suddenly notifies that you have a message from Clarke, and the solution to your problem becomes so unexpectedly clear that you open up her contact information and call her before you can really think about what you’re doing.

 

“Are you hurt?”

The question is asked so out of the blue, right the moment she’s picked up the phone, and you crackle because she actually sounds worried.

She doesn’t seem amused by your reaction, but you quickly explain the situation to her and she doesn’t even hesitate in her response.

“I’m on my way.”

 

****

 

5.

You’d left Clarke with Aden. He’d seemed actually excited to spend time with her, he gave you all the permission in the world to go do your thing and to not worry about anything. He’d told you to take a walk after your class if you wanted, “you know, to clear your head”. 

The little asshole.

Obviously, the moment your professor had dismissed you, you’d rushed home.

There is laughter coming from inside the apartment, and you open the door and step inside to find Aden, Clarke and another girl you don’t recognize on the floor, a monopoly board in front of them.

You stand there, shocked, because Clarke is smiling so carefree and it’s disturbingly beautiful and because you find it entirely suspicious that anyone can manage a laugh while playing that game. Well, now that you think about, the brunette girl seated in front of Clarke is not laughing so much.

They all look up when you enter the living room, and Clarke raises her hand in greeting, while her smile widens. 

“Hey!”

Aden gives you a half-assed greeting too, but he’s too busy staring at his possessions.

The unidentified girl stands up and walks towards you with an easy smile on her lips and a limp in her left leg. She extends a hand to you. “Raven Reyes, Clarke’s roommate and the best friend she could ever ask for.” She takes back her hand once you shake it, and she narrows her eyes at you. “Better have talked about me.”

You smile at her, while you notice out of the corner of your eye Clarke rolling her eyes. “She has.”

Raven nods satisfied.

“So can you help me get my money back? Aden is cheating, Clarke is pretending she doesn’t see anything, and they’re basically robbing me blank.”

You turn amused towards Clarke, who makes an outraged face at the accusations.

Aden pockets a hundred dollars from the bank while he thinks nobody is watching and you shake your head entertained.

You take a sit next to Clarke, who turns to you. “I just… Raven was bored, and I told her to come over, I hope it was okay.”

“It’s perfectly fine, Clarke.”

She smiles at you.

The moment is broken by the front door opening, and seconds later Anya enters the room, staring at all of you quizzically. “Is this some cumbaya shit I was not aware of?”

You’re about to explain to her why you have two strangers on your flat, when your best friend’s eyes widen comically as she stares at Raven.

The other girl seems to recognize your friend too, because she gives her an painfully awkward smile, while Anya shoots glares at her.

But this point you’re just confused, so you feel the need to ask the obvious question. “Huh… do you know each other.”

Anya keeps staring at Raven with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know. Do we?”

Clarke seems to be an unaware of what is happening as you are, because she throws you a question look that you can only answer with a scrunch up face.

“Raven here has been a pain in the ass for weeks. She’s literally the worst customer I’ve even had the displeasure of encountering.”

“Okay, I hear your point, but just saying, maybe if you were capable of getting my order right….”

“I do get your order right! You just like to complain about every single thing!”

“Well, I find that accusation quite exaggerated.”

Anya adopts a whynny voice and your eyebrows shoot straight into your hairline. “Triple, venti, half sweet, non-fat, caramel Macchiato.” She glares at Raven again. “Who the fuck orders that anyway?”

Clarke quickly puts her hands on Aden’s ears at the sound of the curse word. He’s staring at you thank her with wide eyes.

Raven just starts laughing her ass off.

You stare at Clarke as she pulls the weirdest face, letting you know she still doesn’t understand what the hell is going on.

“Anyway,” Raven’s voice makes you pull your eyes off of Clarke, “you wanna play Monopoly?”

Anya stares at her dumbfounded until she seems to give up and she shrugs, sitting on the floor next to Aden, and messing up his hair with a hand as a form of greeting.

“Apart from being the worst customer you’ve ever had the displeasure of encountering, I’m also Clarke’s roommate.” She gives Anya a huge grin.

Anya turns to Clarke. “You’re the nurse?”

Heat suddenly rushes to your face, because you’re not entirely sure what Anya’s gonna say, and she’s enough of an asshole to imply that you’d been pissing your pants over sending Clarke a simple text.

Clarke nods, extending a hand to Anya, who shakes it while introducing herself.

You start preparing yourself for Anya’s jab at your stupidity.

It never comes.

Instead, she turns to you. “Okay, but if I’m playing this stupid capitalist game, I want snacks.”

You roll your eyes, while putting you hand in a military salute. “Yes, sir.”

Clarke follows you to the kitchen, and you open sadly the two last Lay’s bags, whispering a goodbye to them. They lasted longer than most of the others.

Clarke helps you put them into a bowl. You enjoy her company, even if the two of you are just standing in the kitchen preparing some snacks without saying a word.

Her presence makes you feel oddly calm.

When everything is ready, you signal her to grab a bowl and take it outside, partially because the loud voices from the living room are makes you anxious. You don’t really know if it’s Anya and Raven arguing some more, or if it’s happy talking.

But Clarke stops you with a smirk in the corner of her mouth and a devilish glint in her eyes, and you mind goes ‘oh dear god’.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

You stare at her, completely confused. 

“Probably not.”

She takes a chip and places it in her mouth, humming approvingly at the taste. You follow the movement of her tongue when she licks her bottom lip, and you wait for her to continue talking.

“Is Anya single?”

The question catches you completely off guard. You furrow your eyebrows imperceptibly, and nod slowly when you realize she’s waiting for an answer.

“But she and her girlfriend of two years broke up like two months ago, I’m not entirely sure she’s up for dating again. They lived together and everything, that’s why she’s staying with me now.”

Clarke considers you words with a pensive expression.

You feel the need to say something else.

“But I don’t know, if you want to go for it, do it.”

She looks at you with the strangest expression at those words, and quickly she’s just chuckling in front of you while shaking her head, clearly amused.

“Anya and Raven. I want to pair up Anya with Raven.” She laughs even more at your puzzled expression. “Come on! Have you seen the looks they were giving each other out there?”

“They were glaring at each other, and throwing insults left and right.”

“Exactly!”

You stare at her while she gives you a loop-sided grin and you try not to find it cute. “You’ve completely lost me.”

She laughs while eating another chip, and you hit her hand lightly to stop her from emptying the bowl.

“Follow my lead.”

Once you’re all back on the floor, the Monopoly board in front of you, you stare at it for a few minutes. Clarke is clearly winning, closely followed by Aden, and you can’t understand for the life of you how your brother managed to not completely blow it. You start believing Raven even more. They clearly ganged up on her.

Raven has only two proprieties and she seems _not_ happy about it.

“Okay,” you all turn to Clarke at the sound of her voice, “Lexa and I can make a team. Raven, Anya is on your team. That way we don’t have to start anew.”

The commotion is instant.

“Why do I have to go with her? Look at her money, she’s bankrupt!”

“Well, I may not be the best at finances, but at least I can make some god-damn decent coffee!”

“That is not coffee! It’s just stupid words jumbled together to make up some sort of non-existent order!”

They stop once they’ve run out of jabs to make at each other, and when Clarke asks them if they are done, Raven grumbles an affirmation.

The game restarts after that.

It’s weird. You’ve been texting Clarke for days now, she’s talked to you about Raven, and you’ve talked about the girl with Anya. You’re also pretty sure Clarke and Raven have talked about you if the looks the brunette is throwing your way are any indication. Clarke and you high five after buying the electric company, and Raven smirks.

You don’t really know what that is about, but you just shrug it off.

Things proceed as any Monopoly game should always proceed. There’s screaming, there’s vicious backstabbing, Anya refusing to go to jail, and Aden just happily taking most of your money away.

 

That is until Anya and Raven land on the Boardwalk square which you and Clarke have filled with hotels, and all hell breaks loose.

They are done. Completely gone bankrupt.

You and Clarke cheer while the other two girls start blaming each other, and Aden looks at all of you like he’s having the time of his life.

At some point you decide to start cleaning up the now empty bowls and you place them on the coffee table, turning your back on the sore losers, and the weird display of violence coming out of your best friend.

Rookie mistake.

Something collides with the back of your head and the impact makes you lose your already precarious balance. You trip on a cushion someone has placed at some point on the floor, and you fall awkwardly between the table and the couch, banging your elbow on the wooden surface, and landing with a loud thud on the floor.

Clarke is the first on your side.

Anya also seems to be panicking now, because she runs towards you with a concerned look on her face. “Shit.”

You groan the moment you move your arm, and you try to give her the dirtiest look you can manage. “The fuck did you throw at me.”

Her mouth turns to a grimace. “The cat.”

You keep staring at her while Clarke helps you get into a sitting position, still on the floor, and starts checking your elbow.

Raven looks at the both of you again with the stupid smirk, and you’re pretty sure you also hit your head during the fall, because it seems like she’s enjoying the fact that Clarke is worriedly checking every surface of your torso looking for any additional damage.

Anya swallows under you stare. “The tiny metallic cat we were using as token.”

You bring a hand to the back of your head. “Fucking hell, Anya, you don’t throw metallic objects at people’s heads, even if they just obliterated you at a stupid game and you are now poor.” She makes a face, and you’re amazed she can manage to be offended when she just almost put you in a coma. “You suck it up. Man, I knew you were a sore loser, but…”

“Hey! Nothing would have happened if you hadn’t tripped and gone down is such a melodramatic fashion.”

“Shut up.”

She chuckles, and you grab the cushion with you good arm and throw it at her, missing her head completely.

Clarke helps you stand up. “Come on,” she grabs your jacket and makes a move for you to follow her. “We need to go to the hospital, at least to immobilize your elbow. It doesn't look bad, but it’ll heal faster this way.”

You pout. “I don’t wanna.”

“Yes, you do. You love the hospital.” Clarke laughs when you roll your eyes.

Raven and Anya say they’ll wait up for the two of you here while looking over Aden, and Clarke responds that you won’t be long.

You’re about to follow Clarke out the door, when you hear Anya muttering. “I can’t believe you got knocked down by some pussy. That long, huh?”

The next cushion hits her straight in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter there WILL be some important clexa developments, I promise :)
> 
> also, hit me up on [tumblr](http://nofriesnoglory.tumblr.com), I need chill people to follow


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say that I wrote this whole chapter listening to the Backstreet Boys and I feel the need to communicate that information to you all.

The emergency room is less crowded today, and you stare at the few people who are walking around with interest. You also glance at the patients that you can see from your position, not that there’s a lot of them, but you realize that’s kinda rude so you divert your eyes.

You just don’t really have anything else to do. Clarke had dropped you here fifteen minutes ago, telling you she was just gonna change her clothes.

You wonder if this is like having a VIP pass. But then you think that if it really is, despite the usefulness of it, it’s not really a cool thing to tell people. It kinda only makes you sound like a complete loser. Definitely not something to boast about.

Bumping your feet, which are hanging from the hospital bed in which you’re seated, as a way to pass the time, you think about Clarke.

Clarke, with who, after this night ends and she takes you home, you have no excuse to hang out with again.

Because you asked her to help you today because you needed someone, and she fitted the criteria (also, you were fucking desperate). But you also enjoyed spending time with her. You enjoyed having an excuse to be with her.

Minus the sudden totally unjustified backstabbingly attempted murder from your best friend’s part, and the fact that you’re now in the emergency room _again_ , of course.

You could have done without that part.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the curtain getting pulled aside and Clarke, now dressed in her nurse uniform, stepping into your space as if that is a completely normal thing between the two of you.

“How is it going?”

You stare perplexed at her, not really understanding the question.

“Mmm. Good. I guess.”

She laughs amused, and she licks her lips while looking momentanerly towards your surroundings. You think she probably doesn’t want the people she works with seeing her laughing like this with a patient.

“Your arm, Lexa.” You follow her eyes, which are now pointed towards you limp useless extremity. “I was asking if your arm hurts.”

You’re pretty sure you’re now blushing, because you probably answered like an idiot.

“Oh. No, it doesn’t, it’s fine.”

She narrows her eyes, and you think she’s not gonna say anything, just stare at you annoyingly as If she knows something you don’t, but she surprises you by speaking. “You’re weird, you know that?”

“Geez, thanks.”

She laughs again, shaking her head softly.

“No, I mean…” She purses her lips together, and her brows furrow, like she’s thinking of a way to get the words out but she can’t. “Never mind.”

“You can’t do that.”

She raises her head, which was seconds ago examining your arm, to stare into your eyes. You don’t even know why she has to look at your arm anymore, she probably has that whole part of your body memorized by now, with all the time she stared at it in your flat and now here.

"You have to say it now."

She gives you a lopsided grin, and you’re so mesmerized by it that you almost don’t hear her next words. “You’re cute when you pretend you’re not in pain.”

You don’t know what to respond to that.

Saying that if it was Anya who had asked the question you’d given a completely different answer is not something you feel like saying right now.

She doesn’t give you time to answer though. Maybe because she doesn’t expect you to.

“I’ll put a bandage on your whole arm, I know it’s not very practical and you’ll probably hate me a little, but It’s the only way you’re not gonna move it and therefore, the only way it’s gonna heal.” She starts immobilizing your arm, while you try to look distractedly at the people going in and out of the room, because her whole body is too close to you for your comfort and you can practically feel your whole face turning red. “Is your relationship with Anya always so… eventful?”

“You mean violent?” You joke getting a chuckle out of Clarke. “It’s her way of expressing her love.”

“Hmm. So, that means you’re not gonna retaliate, right?”

You make a face, because, really, Anya’s gonna get what’s coming to her.

You have no idea how that’s gonna happen.

But it is going to happen. 

“You got any ideas?”

She stares at you with renewed interest, the creepiest smile on her face, and you gulp because in 5 seconds she went from cute to terrifying and you’re honestly not even slightly put off by that.

She gets closer to you, and you struggle to not move your upper body backwards. “Oh, do I.”

You’re about to offer a sarcastic comment to the situation, which is apparently the only thing you know how to do when you have a pretty girl pushed up against you, when the sound of someone clearing up their throat startles you. Your knee shoots forward involuntarily and you hit Clarke.

You put your hands on her hip, completely panicked that you’ll have hurt her, but she’s laughing while rubbing the area with her hand, so you breathe relieved. She gives you a ‘what the hell, Lexa’ look and your mouth forms a grimace.

“Man, those are some reflexes.” 

She’s full on laughing now, and you can’t help but join her.

That is until she turn towards the sound that caused this whole thing, and you watch as her face changes instantaneously. It’s kind of scary. Her expression settles on animosity, but you can see behind that. She looks aprehensive.

A woman is standing there, looking at the two of you with a confused glint in her eyes and pursed lips.

You alternate between staring at Clarke and at the woman in the white coat. Her brown piercing eyes stare back at you, and the feeling that she’s reading into your soul settles in your chest.

Awkward.

“Clarke, I thought you didn’t have a shift today.”

You watch as Clarke distances herself from you taking a couple steps back.

“I don’t.” She points hand towards your general direction. “I was with a friend and she got hurt.”

The woman’s face softens at that, but she’s still looking at you out of the corner of her eye, and _you trust no one_.

“Is everything oka-”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Clarke interrupts her while showing a strained smile. “I’m just gonna finish bandaging Lexa’s arm and I’ll take her home.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds and you’re starting to feel uncomfortable, until the older woman gives a Clarke a nod and a warmer smile. She then turns to you to do the same and you smile back awkwardly.

You watch her turn around and walk to the other side of the room with a curious feeling and you turn to Clarke for an explanation.

A dry chuckles comes out of her mouth when she catches your puzzled look.

“That” she points towards the direction the woman left, “was my mom.”

You feel yourself chocking on your own saliva, and you try to act like a composed human being, but you feel so assaulted by that information that you’re pretty sure your face is a monument of embarrassment.

“Your mom?”

“Yeah, she’s the emergency physician.”

“She’s your boss?”

Clarke nods.

When your eyes find hers again, she winks at you. “Can’t believe you met half of the parents before you even took me to dinner.”

You can see through her nonchalant flirting though. She still slightly bothered by whatever it was that happened moments ago, so you roll your eyes affectionately. 

“Okay, you can take this thing off in two weeks if it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

A look at your arm lets you know it is uncomfortably incapacitated by the white bandages, and a hand slaps you own when you go to relieve the itching that’s starting to take its place underneath them.

When you look up, Clarke is pointing a finger too close to your face for your own comfort.

“Don’t. Do. That.” She turns your back on you for a few seconds and appears with a sling and a smirk on her face.

And just like that you become aware that this is going to be two very long and very awful weeks.

 

****

 

Gustus calls to tell you he can take Aden back so you can continue your mess of a life without a small demon around.

Thankfully, your brother’s foot is good as new and you make him promise three times that he’s gonna keep his mouth shut. He swears it on Halo. The game. And you shrug because you’re clearly too old for this shit and let him go.

Gustus comes to pick him up that same day, and he hugs you so tight you feel lightheaded for a couple seconds. He shoots a strange look towards your arm and you shake your head.

‘Don’t even bother’.

He grins.

Anya comes back from work three hours later and she plops down on the couch, complaining about the customer of the day, whoever that is because you’re not really listening to her.

“Where is Aden, by the way?”

“Gustus came back, he took him home.” You grab her legs to take them off your side of the couch and you sit down. Anya proceeds to put her feet on your lap. “I told you he would most likely came back today.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t sound as happy about as you’d expected her to be and you have to bite your lower lip to not let out a good laugh at her badly concealed sad face. “I forgot.”

“Yeah.” You pat on of her legs. “Nothing knew there.”

The two of you spend a few minutes like that, without saying any words. Anya recovering from the madness of capitalism hell and you still tired from waking up earlier today to go to class. You sigh. That shit never gets old.

“Lexa.”

“Mhmm?”

“Can I move in here? Like, as a more permanent thing? ‘Cause when we agreed that I would stay with you, we said that it would be just for a while. A few weeks.”

You chuckle, amused. “No, you said that.”

There’s silence for a moment.

“Oh.”

You study her carefree expression. She has her eyes closed and is obviously about to fall asleep with her mouth still half-opened.

You remember Clarke’s words.

Retaliation.

Like pushing Anya right now to the floor with a small effortless delicate push.

Thud.

Anya to the ground.

The sweet smell of victory.

You entertain those thoughts for a while, letting yourself marvel in the possibilities of your revenge, but ultimately decide you're way too tired right now to deal with your best friend screaming like a chipmunk when she lands on the cold unforgiving floor.

You're way, way too tired for that.

Anya sighs contently, unware of your internal monologue on a potential attempt on her life. "Thank god, some calm and peace in this household."

"You're the one who's always screaming. The fuck you talking about."

"Shut up." She stretches her arms over her head, still lying on the couch, and she leaves them there. "Calm, Lexa, I'm trying to enjoy the calm."

You stare at her muddled.

"Are you gonna start doing yoga or something."

Anya groans, and she raises slightly her head to give you a dirty look. "I swear to everything in this damn world if you don't shut up, I'm moving out."

You shrug. "Okay. I heard the weather under the bridge is very nice this time of the year."

A cushion lands on your lap, but it has absolutely no hurting potential.

Anya is annoyed though, and that makes you smile, proud of yourself. 

"I can't believe it. I miss your brother." You raise your brows at her, not expecting those words. "What? At least he didn't insult me."

"Yeah, that's cause I'm pretty sure he was scared of you."

"As you all should be."

You snort, barely hiding it behind a cough.

"Also, you threw a metallic cat at the back of my head, Anya!"

"Man, when are you gonna let that go? It's been weeks."

"It was two days ago!"

 

****

 

You stare at your arm while poking at it with a fork tentatively.

You want to take it out. It's been almost two weeks, and it doesn't hurt anymore. It just itches, which is ten times worse and a lot more detrimental to your dignity, especially when Anya had found you trying to stick a used chopstick between your skin and the bandages. It still had Kung Pao chicken remains in it.

But that's not the only reason you're fed up with this whole having-a-useless-arm-again thing. You have an important soccer match in a couple of weeks, and even though you've been training these past days with the other girls, a decision that could cost you your life if Clarke knew, you want to be able to train for real.

If you're wearing this thing on your arm the girls take it easy on you because they don't want to be the ones to break your arm right before the game.

And they're smart.

But you're sick of it.

You start peeling off the sticking plaster and separating the first layer of bandages from your arm when a loud sound from your phone makes you jump from the seat and you almost have a brain aneurism.

The message is from Clarke.

You look around in your kitchen for ten good minutes for the blonde girl, feeling paranoid as fuck.

Did she… feel what you were about to do? Does she have a paranormal gift that allows her to know when her patients are not doing what they were told to do?

You grab the phone while still looking suspiciously towards the kitchen door and open the message.

 **Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 6:03 pm**  
_please tell me u don’t have training, or classes or homework today bc Raven is god knows where doing god knows who and I need to drink a couple beers and chill with u_

It still sounds oddly romantic to you even with the lazy spelling and you have to shake your head to get your stupid thoughts far, far again.

It’s been a couple crazy weeks between classes and tests, and you haven’t seen Clarke since the ‘Monopoly crime’. You’d texted her some days, and you honestly feel like she’s quickly becoming a really good friend of yours.

But at the same time you’d also felt as if she’d been acting kinda… weird.

She had not been avoiding you. After all, you were the one who hadn’t even had one minute to hang out with her. You could only hang out during the weekend but she had to work, so it was totally understandable that the two of you had not been able to see each other face to face.

But she didn’t text you as much as before, and her answers were usually brief or written a while after you’d texted her.

Not that it bothered you. 

You just wanted to know if something had changed between the two of you. 

When you see her text, though, you start thinking about the fact that maybe you’re just an idiot with an overactive imagination. You had just been thinking about Clarke having superpowers to spy on her patients, after all.

**Me 6:09 pm**  
_I have absolutely nothing to do today._

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 6:10 pm**  
_that’s probably a lie, r u neglecting ur responsibilities Lexa?_

**Me 6:10 pm**  
_Perhaps._

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 6:11 pm**  
_perfect, I’ll be there in half an hour_

Some of the girls on the team were actually going to have a meet up at Harper’s flat and hang out for a bit, and honestly, you were planning on going. But you’re actually kind of tired and the plan with Clarke sounds way better to you right now.

You send one text to the girls to let them know you won’t be going, and another text to Anya to ask her if she’s gonna come home straight from her shift at the Starbucks.

She still hasn’t answered by the time Clarke rings the doorbell, forty minutes after her text and therefore, ten minutes late.

The blonde rolls her eyes when you politely communicate to her the fact that she’s late.

“Also,” you haven’t even closed the door completely, but you just can’t not take it any longer, “can I take this stupid thing from my arm already, _please_?”

“You’re an awful patient, you know that?”

“I do.”

She walks straights past you to the couch, where she lets her body drop after placing the six pack on the table in front on it.

You take a few steps until you’re closer to where she is and you watch as she motions you to sit next to her with her hands.

“Come here. I’ll take it out.”

You do, and she quickly notices the already unstuck bandages. “Oh, it seems like someone already had plans to do it on her own.”

You don’t appreciate the accusing tone of her voice.

“It was already like that, I didn’t touch it.”

“You didn’t, huh?” She proceeds to free your arm, but she’s still holding it to make sure you don’t make an abrupt move. “You know, you’re almost as bad a liar as you are a patient.”

Her hands touch your skin on the spot your elbow collided with the table you now have in front of you, and you almost shudder at the feeling of her fingertips carefully brushing the now perfectly healed area.

“What’s the verdict?”

Clarke quickly pulls her eyes from your arm to your face, blinks slowly several times, before a lazy grin takes over her face and you stop feeling her hands on your skin. “It seems to be fine.”

“Thanks for the words of wisdom, Nurse Griffin.” She makes a move to playfully slap your other arm, but you quickly move your body to avoid the impact while trying not to laugh. “And I want to cheer to those words.”

You grab a beer and pass another one to her. “To Lexa’s arm being finally free and able to follow its dreams.”

“Are you talking about yourself in the third person?”

“Shut up and drink.”

Clarke takes a sip from her beer, but not before staring at you with a fake worried expression.

“I don’t know, there were so many things wrong with that sentence…”

“Also!” You take a long drink from your beer before continuing, the excitement in your voice palpable if Clarke’s face is anything to go by. “Okay, so I’ve thought about how I want to get back at Anya for the other night. She’s about to get back home on an hour or so, what do you say we pretend that when I fell I hit the table with my head really hard and I’ve got a concussion but, you know, sometimes those things are difficult to diagnose, so we didn’t realize till today when…” You make a dramatic pause while Clarke is still looking at you as if you _actually_ hit your head really hard. “I will suddenly faint and fall to the ground right before Anya enters through the door.”

Your delighted face at what you consider an excellent plan, one you are very proud of, is met with a blank expression followed by narrowed eyes and, after a while, a snort from Clarke.

“What the hell, Lexa, that’s crazy.” She full on laughing now, patting you thigh with a hand. “It’s been two weeks!”

“Anya doesn’t know shit about medical stuff!”

When Clarke keeps looking at you like she doesn’t know if she wants to laugh a bit more or if she should make you go to sleep, you sigh. She’s also looking at you really endeared and it’s making your face burn.

“And what would my role be in this situation?”

“Oh, you just have to pretend to be _very_ concerned and just speak a few medical terms, you know… brain damage, internal bleeding… that kinda stuff.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Hey, you wanna make Anya squirm or not?”

Clarke shakes her head amused. “Yeah, okay. But for now I want to watch a movie, I’m really tired and I had a night shift yesterday so… let’s see what’s on Netflix.”

You can work with that.

After making some popcorn and going through the first beer, you find yourself sitting on the couch next to Clarke after she has decided on some comedy movie you’ve never heard about before.

She has the popcorn on her lap, so you grab your second beer to do something with your hands.

The movie is good enough to distract you from the fact that Clarke is sitting barely inches away from you.

It isn’t until you hear you phone make an annoying sound from where it is at the table that you don’t realize you’re halfway through the movie and you’re really enjoying it.

You open the text from Anya.

_somthing came up, wont be there till a bit late, go to ur thing_

You shrug once you’ve read it, and you tell Clarke with a sad face that the plan will have to be postponed. 

She grabs you by the back of your jeans and seats your ass back on the couch, and the action makes your face turn so red you’re suddenly really grateful for the fact that the lights are dimmed down.

You’re also very aware of the skin of her arm brushing against yours, but when you throw a glace towards her, she seems totally enraptured in the movie, her eyes following the characters on the screen attentively, even though she seems to be having trouble with keeping her eyes opened.

She seems really tired, and you briefly wonder why she’d want to come hang out with you when she could be taking a nap in her own bed.

Or in your bed.

The thought creeps on you, and this time it’s a bit more difficult to shake it away.

You keep your eyes on the tv screen and your hands on your third beer, while occasionally grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl now positioned on the table, were Clarke left it when she changed her position on the couch. You’re still sitting perfectly still, you back straight, mindful of your posture, but she’s hugging her legs, with her bare feet on the couch and you have to stop yourself from looking because it’s _so fucking cute_.

Except, a few minutes later, you feel a pressure on your shoulder and you turn to your right confused only to be met with blonde hair in your face.

Clarke is no longer hugging her legs or watching the movie.

She’s asleep, with her head on your shoulder and one of her hands on your thigh.

You take a deep breath, trying to think about how you should act. She seemed tired, you don’t really want to wake her up, even though you know she’d sleep better in her apartment.

But she came here to spend time with you anyway, right?

So you let her take a nap half on top on you while you try to keep your eyes on the screen to keep track of the movie.

It’s a difficult task.

But you manage.

Even when she nuzzles her head on your neck, and you forget how to breath for three good minutes. And her hand is still in your thigh, which is thankfully covered by your jeans, otherwise you’d already be in the ER and the brain damage would _not_ be fake this time.

The movie ends and you honestly have absolutely no idea what happened.

You just know that blonde hair is tickling your exposed collarbone, and Clarke’s entire arm in pressed flush against your side.

When you feel her start moving, you let out a breath that you don’t really know if it’s from relief or from the anxious feelings in your chest at the thought of the next minutes.

Clarke simple raises her head with confused and still half-closed eyes while her hands presses more against your leg, and a small whimper comes out of your mouth before you press your lips together, biting your lower lip, now completely embarrassed. Your heart is beating way too fast and you’re completely sure that Clarke can hear it and if the sound that just came out of your mouth wasn’t humiliating enough.

The other girl’s eyes snap open and your vision becomes full of blue. Confused, disoriented, beautiful and aroused blue.

Blue that drifts to your lips for just a second, but enough for you to notice.

“Clarke…”

Except Clarke is already moving forward, and your noses touch and you’re pretty sure you’re about to explode.

You can feel her breath on your skin; the slightly cold smell of beer mixed with mint.

She tilts her head to the left and now your noses are touching on the side, and you feel a small pressure on your lips, just a brush. You want to press your lips to hers forcefully but you’re too stunned to move or do anything but suffer and wait for Clarke to finally kiss you.

It seems like she’s about to, when the door of the apartment is violently opened and sounds from the entrance harshly interrupt the moment. Clarke separates her lips from yours before you can even process what’s happening.

There’s laughing coming from the hallway, but it is quickly followed by moans and whispered swears, and your head is buzzing trying to comprehend who the fuck is in your apartment.

It’s Anya, you find out the next second when she enters the living room carrying a brunette girl, the girl’s legs on your best friend’s hips and her arms holding onto Anya’s neck for dear life.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll be screaming those stupid fake ass Frappuccino names every time I make you come.”

You stare completely disturbed as they continue to make out against the wall totally unaware of your presence in the room until Clarke seems to grasp the situation.

“RAVEN?”

They jump at the scream, almost resulting in Raven falling to the floor if not for Anya’s hands on her ass. She places Raven on the floor once she realizes it’s just you and Clarke, and the both of them stand there avoiding your eyes and also each other.

You stare at Anya until she meets your eyes. She responds to your bewildered expression with a shrug, and then she points an accusatory finger in your direction. “You weren’t supposed to be here!” 

“What??”

“You were supposed to be out with the girls on the team!”

“Well, clearly I’m not!”

The room becomes quiet after that except for Raven, who seems to be giggling softly under her breath.

She stops when she notices Clarke glaring at her, and she eyes the both of your curiously, from Clarke’s hand, still on your thigh, to the blush on your face you’re positive is visible from miles away.

She then gives Clarke an inquiring look, and the blonde girl wastes no time in abruptly separating her hand from you.

You miss the contact instantly.

“Wait… did we interrupt someth-” 

“No, you didn’t.” Clarke is up on her feet before you can reach a hand towards her to ask her to stay. “I have to go. I just- I have stuff to do.”

You don’t really understand what’s going on. Everything happened too fast.

Clarke turns to you with a strained smile when she’s half-way out the door. “I’ll call you.”

And with that she’s gone.

 

****

 

**This is Clarke Griffin and I’m probably working if you’re calling at night or sleeping if you’re calling me at a decent hour, which… thanks for that, appreciate it. Anyway, leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can. Peace out.**

It’s the third time you’ve heard the whole voicemail.

The third time in the five days Clarke has been ignoring you.

There have been a lot of texts too, but when you’d realized she was not going to answer, you resorted to calling her in the hopes of catching her distracted. Maybe then she’s pick up the phone without noticing it was you the one calling and you’d be able to politely ask her what the fuck was going on.

Needless to say, that had not resulted in any results either.

You just… did not understand.

Clarke was ignoring you because you’d almost kissed. _She_ had almost kissed you. You think it’s important to point that particular fact.

You decide to give up for today. Maybe Clarke wants some space.

You’ll give Clarke some space.

__

__****_ _

__

__**This is Clarke Griffin and I’m probably working if you’re calling at-** _ _

__She was not going to answer you._ _

__Was she done with you?_ _

__Couldn’t she at least tell you why?_ _

__Anya enters the living room while you’re still desperately staring at your phone, and she sighs for the hundredth time this week._ _

__“You still hung up on that?”_ _

__“Leave me alone, Anya.”_ _

__“Come on, Lexa. I’m sorry.” She comes to sit next to you on the couch and puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “She panicked. It happens.”_ _

__“Yeah, well, I expect some answers anyway. She can’t just- ugh. She can’t just disappear.” You leave your phone on the table and lie down back on the couch. “I don’t even know where she lives.”_ _

__“Hey, maybe she’ll get her shit together. She knows where _you_ live.” Your best friend shrugs. “Maybe she just needs a bit of time.”_ _

__But by the time she finishes the sentence, you’re not even listening to her. You must have a dangerous glint in your eyes, because Anya stares at you worriedly. “What?”_ _

__“I don’t know where she lives.”_ _

__“Yeah, you already said that. Lexa, you’re starting to look like a maniac, you sure you’re okay?”_ _

__You grab her hands and now she’s staring at you like you contracted some weird disease and you’re about to be placed in quarantine._ _

__“I need your help.”_ _

__“You need my help.”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__“Why do I have a feeling I’m not gonna like this?”_ _

__You tug at her hands, urging her eyes to meet yours to convey to her how serious you are about this._ _

__“Anya,” you speak the words with as much solemnity as you can muster, “I need you to punch me in the face.”_ _


	8. Chapter 8

You’re exhausted by the time you make it home. It was almost 2am when you checked your phone in your car. That must have been around fifteen minutes ago.

Opening the door without making any noise is not hard. You’ve been practicing for months, ever since you started your job.

Getting on Raven’s nerves may be fun sometimes, but you have no intention of waking her up at this hour when she probably has class the next day.

You barely make a sound entering the apartment.

The plan is to go straight to your bedroom. That’s always the plan. But you’re halfway down the hallway when you hear a loud snore from the couch that sounds more like someone is taking their last breath on this earth and you curse vehemently to try to get your heart to calm down. It’s too dark to see anything. You’re aware that it’s just Raven but it doesn’t stop you from being scared shitless for a few seconds there.

“Clarke?”

And now she’s awake.

You turn on the lights, because if you’re gonna talk to your roommate, you at least are going to be able to see what’s in front of you.

Raven is on the couch, a confused expression on her face.

“Did you fall asleep there?”

She rubs her eyes with her hands.

“I… guess I did?”

“Okay, well… I’m gonna go to sleep?”

You start making your way to your bedroom, but you don’t even make it to the hallway.

“Hey, hey! Young lady!” She points a finger towards you and then to the space next to her. “Sit your ass down, we’re gonna have a talk.”

“Raven-”

“Uh huh, sit down.”

You exhale a deep breath, cursing your best friend. You’re fucking tired, you just wanna go to bed. “I’m older than you, you freaking idiot.”

But, even though you do it while grumbling, you sit down next to her.

After taking a look at her, you realize Raven probably fell asleep while watching something on her laptop. It’s not the first times that has happened, and you’re fairly certain it won’t be the last. She’s wearing sweatpants and her breath smells like Cheetos. 

That confuses you a little, because you figured the sleeping “arrangement” she had with Anya was making her happier. Or at least, not so prone to be like… this.

But then again you have absolutely no idea what the hell is going on with those two.

And you haven’t asked.

Cause that would entail talking to Raven.

Which you’ve been…

“Clarke, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“What?” You turn to her with what you’re sure is an offended look on your eyes. You can’t help it. “No, I haven’t, that’s crazy.”

Three days have passed since you and Lexa almost kissed. And in these three days, you haven’t seen Raven at all, much less talked to her.

That doesn’t mean she has the right to call you out like that.

You did what you thought you needed to do, and it’s not like you’re gonna keep this up. You’re gonna talk to Lexa. You’ll call her at some point. You just need to think about some stuff before.

“Where were you?”

Raven is studying your face with an expression you can’t quite place.

“Huh?”

She rolls her eyes, and you want to glare at her because your brain is not feeling quite so lucid right now.

“It’s past 2am, Clarke, and I know you didn’t have a shift so late today.”

“Oh, went with Lincoln and the guys to get a couple of drinks.”

Raven nods, but keeps staring at you for longer that you deem necessary. You drop your head onto the back of the couch, letting a sigh of relieve at finally being home. It had been fun being out with the boys, and you’d really appreciated their company. Time flied between jokes with them. But going back home walking had been a real pain in the ass and you were remarkably tired.

“Okay, and these last couple of days?”

You look up at your roommate. “I had work. Hospital. You know.”

You’d definitely worked more hours than usual, but Raven didn’t need to know that.

“Clarke, you’re being a butt.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

You find a sticky cheeto on your side underneath a cushion and you throw it at her face. Lovingly.

“I’m _not_.”

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, and you hear Raven sigh. She has her eyes half closed and you think she’s probably about to fall asleep at any minute.

You feel like falling asleep too.

Definitely too many beers.

“Clarke, why did you bolt out of there?” You close your eyes, trying to tune Raven’s voice out. “Come on, it was weird as fuck.”

“I didn’t bolt. I just had to do stuff.” You frown, remembering that night. “Also, seeing my best friend like that was… not what I was up to at that moment.”

She completely ignores the last part.

“Are you gonna call Lexa?”

“Of course I am.”

She’s looking at you now, an intense look in her eyes, like she’s trying to figure out if you’re lying.

You don’t really know if you are.

“Did something happened between you two?”

You brush your hand out of your face with your hand, and when a few seconds have passed and you have nothing else to distract yourself with, you stand up and you start cleaning the place a little. Checking there aren’t any more unfortunately forgotten lonely Cheetos in between the cushions.

“What _I’d like to know_ , is what is going on with Lexa’s roommate, actually.”

Raven rolls her eyes (again) but then her mouth turns into a smirk.

“Oh… _how much_ would you like to know...?”

You kick her in the leg and she chuckles quietly.

“You gonna date her?”

“ _Please_ , she was a good fuck. Maybe a more then a one-time thing? Yeah, maybe… But let’s not be delusional here.” She shrugs, her eyebrows raised and a cocky smile on her mouth.

You feel an irrational sudden hate towards Finn.

“Well, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t at least try.”

She stops smirking, and she stares at you with an expression you don’t like.

“Are you for real, Clarke?”

You don’t understand. Are you for real about what?

“You ran out of Lexa’s apartment faster than you can say Free Shots on a Friday night because you guys were _interrupted_ and you suddenly got terrified of I don’t even know what and you’re here _berating me about my love life_?”

She doesn’t look so sleepy now.

She actually looks kinda terrifying, and despite your confusion with the words coming out of her mouth, you feel what she’s feeling. Somehow, you feel it.

But you don’t understand where it’s coming from.

“Raven, I just want you to be happy-”

“Well, Clarke, maybe worry about your own life for now, huh? Maybe let others live their lives the way they want to. Maybe call Lexa and stop being a selfish asshole, and _maybe stop doing things that end up hurting the people around you_ .”

You stare at her back as she leaves the room and you stare at the hallway long after she’s gone.

_You understand now even less where the fuck that came from._

 

****

 

One week without speaking to Lexa.

Four days without speaking to Raven.

It’s actually quite easy to avoid your roommate when she’s also avoiding you, you’ve found out. 

You tried talking to her the day after your… fight? You don’t even know what to call it. Nevertheless, the result had been futile. She’s claimed she had a class she couldn’t be late to, and she’s disappeared without even drinking her cup of coffee.

That had bothered you, and now you’re both acting like complete morons.

Still, you think, communication would do wonders right now, and you’re really pissed at your best friend for not telling you what her problem is.

Which you realize is ironic considering you’re situation with Lexa. But you’re accustomed to being the poster child for inconsistency.

 

****

 

You grab the phone and open the Contacts page.

Lexa’s number appears on your screen short after.

Your finger hovers over color green.

You hesitate.

You don’t make the call.

 

****

 

It’s a relatively quiet day at the hospital, and you appreciate it. After a few hours, when you realize there are actually not new patients for you at the moment, you walk to the Break Room to grab a coffee and rest for a bit.

Lincoln is there, and you bump his awaiting fist with yours while he smiles warmly at you.

“Everything okay?”

You head towards the coffee machine. “Yeah, peaceful day.”

“It’s nice.”

You hum, nodding a couple of times, while you watch your cup fill with the black liquid.

He stands up not long after. “I gotta go, I think I’ve been in here too long to not make it suspicious. Can’t have people thinking I’m not doing anything.”

“But you aren’t.”

He slaps your arm playfully.

You sit on the spot he leaves on the couch. It’s the best couch. Everyone knows it, there are fights to get this spot.

Lincoln is almost out the door, when he makes a loud “Ohh” and turns to you, now leaning on the doorway. “Octavia and I are throwing a party on Saturday at my place. Well, our place now. You’re coming, right?”

“Of course I’m going. To celebrate the fact that two of my best friends are moving in together, even if I find it a bit quick-”

“I told you, my roommate was moving out and I needed to find a replacement, and it just kinda happened…”

You smile wider at him. “-but I still support it, and also because… hmmm… weird… did you say something about free unlimited drinks? Yeah I’m pretty sure I heard something like that…”

“Ha, ha, we’ll see, Griffin.”

“There better be booze, dude, these past weeks have been exhausting.”

He enters into the room again and leans against the wall. “I heard through Octavia that Raven and you were being weird. What happened?”

“Oh.” You shrug, not sure how to answer that question. “I don’t really know? But it’s okay, we’ll work it out.” You smile at him. “We always do.”

He leaves after that and you find it difficult to relax with the reminder about Raven in your mind. 

You finish the coffee in two long drinks and you grow restless with the silence of the room.

Not long after, you decide to go back to the ER, even if you do have a few more minutes for your break, but you prefer to be doing something to distract you from the fact that you may be fucking up every single important relationship in your life.

Maya grabs you by your arm the moment you enter the room, and she smiles sheepishly at you. “Can you go take a look into Box 1? I have to go do a couple of x-rays.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Thanks!”

She runs off, and you walk towards your newfound destination with a new sense of purpose.

That… quickly crumbles to the ground then moment you open the curtain. Your hand stays grasping the plastic for a few seconds, and your body stays still, unsure of how to advance forward.

Lexa is just sitting there in the bed, as always, staring at you with impenetrable eyes.

You’re so taken aback that it takes you a little too long to notice the cut on her lip. You frown when your eyes fall on it. There’s blood on the side of her mouth.

The weird feeling in your chest you’ve been feeling these past few weeks intensifies.

“Fuck Lexa, what the hell happened to your face?”

She has a split lip and she’s turning slightly red on her cheeks, and you’re very confused.

“That… doesn’t matter.”

You stare at her with a raised eyebrow because ‘are you fucking kidding me?’

She stares back, a defiant look on her green eyes.

“Are you gonna patch me up, or what?”

You don’t make a move. It’s baffling to you that you feel so strongly for someone you know from a few months. From a few trips to the hospital.

But the only thing running through your mind is that Lexa has been most certainly punched in the face, and the thought makes you want to fight everyone.

You remember these past few weeks, though. You have actually no right no demand explanations, so you sigh and get to work.

Cleaning the wound requires you to get uncomfortably closer to her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She actually doesn’t seem to show any emotion on her face, and that unnerves you a lot more than if she was looking angry.

You check if the cut requites stitches by separating her lip cautiously from her teeth, and you breathe out relieved when you realize it doesn’t.

You tell her that. She nods slowly.

The antiseptic cream is applied in silence. You avoid her eyes as much as you can.

“You didn’t call.”

The words are spoken with a soft voice. You can’t help but look up to meet her eyes.

Your fingers ghost over the side of her face, where your hand is placed to prevent her head from moving while you treat her lip.

She stares at you expecting an answer, but you don’t have one.

“I don’t think I hallucinated it. You said you’d call.”

“You have to stay still, Lexa. Or the cut will get worse.”

She huffs, but remains still until you’re done.

You had thought until now that keeping some space between the two of you these past weeks was for the best. You had honestly believed that everything would be okay, even if you knew you’d never dial her number. It wasn’t that important, after all. You’d been friends for at least a couple of months, but that was it. That night in Lexa’s apartment had probably been a mistake and Lexa would want to forget about it, same as you.

But the thing is that now, looking into the face of the other girl, you realize all of what you’d thought is bullshit.

You miss her.

She looks at you attentively as you explain how to deal with her split lip for the next few days, but you make a mental note to send her a text with a reminder of a few things because, as always, you’re sure she’ll barely remember half of what you just said.

Sometimes she stares at you in a way that you think she can read your mind. That she’s inside of your thoughts, instead of listening to you talk about ice and reopening wounds and… you don’t even realize what you’re talking about because her stare is making you nervous. And Clarke Griffin doesn’t do nervous.

She gets down from the hospital bed once you’re done, but remains leaning on it while her hands fidget and she stares at the ground. She’s a bit taller than you, you’ve accepted it now.

“Did I do something wrong? Because if anything of what happened that night, not that _anything_ happened, but if it made you uncomfortable and you don’t wa-”

“I’m sorry.”

Lexa stops talking and stays still, her mouth still half opened.

The apology escapes from your mouth and you stand there without knowing what to do. You just don’t feel ready for this.

“I’m sorry.” You say it again just to at least make sure she knows. “I have to go to another patient. I’ll text you in a couple of days to make sure you’re lip is doing fine, ok?”

She just stares as you open the curtain again, but you hear her as you’re about to exit small space between the curtain and the bed.

“Will you, though?”

Low blow. Still, you accept that you deserve it.

 

****

 

**Me 1:27 pm**  
_is the cut okay. did you do everything I told you to?_

 

**Lexa 1:32 pm**  
_you texted_

You look up at the sound of a door closing, and your eyes widen comically at the sight of Anya standing in the hallway in front of Raven’s room, disheveled and with clear post-sex hairdo.

She jumps when she spots you in the couch. “Jesus, Griffin. You fucking scared me.”

“It’s midday. You’re literally sneaking from a booty call at midday, don’t act as if you expected the apartment to be deserted, try leaving at 7am for that.”

“Got it.”

She stays still, in the middle of the hallway looking at you with apprehension as if she doesn’t know if she should run or stay to talk to you. It makes you chuckle. You don’t think you’ve had a decent conversation with Anya, and you certainly don’t know much about the girl, but she doesn’t seem to be the type to do well with small talk.

It takes her around twenty seconds to realize there’s nothing for her here, and she gives you a nod as she passes the living room and heads to the door.

She makes a movement as if she’s about to turn around once she’s there, and you brace yourself for the questions about Lexa, but she must decide on the last moment that it doesn’t really compensate her, because she opens the door and disappears hurriedly.

You laugh loudly once you hear the door close.

Anya has automatically gained enough points to be at the top of the list of Raven’s sex dates. She didn’t even try to make herself coffee. _Your coffee._

You like her.

The phone on your hand buzzes and you divert your attention to it, noticing Lexa’s message.

**Lexa 1:37 pm**  
_Also, yes I did._

You feel the need to go to her apartment, and check for yourself that everything is fine.

But that’s… not a reasonable thing to do considering you’re current stance on your relationship. Also, you’re not even sure if Lexa would open the door. Maybe she’d just slam it in your face. 

You need to be reasonable.

You need to think about what you’re going to do.

You need to not do stupid rash decisions that won’t get you anywhere.

**Me 1:39 pm**  
_do u want to come to a party at lincoln’s_

And the moment you send the text, you give yourself a pat on the back for being a fucking idiot who is not even capable of listening to her own subconscious.

You miss her. So what? That doesn’t give you the right to be driving Lexa crazy because of your indecisive ass, who apparently according to Raven, hurts everyone else.

Lexa’s gonna politely tell you to go orbit a black hole anyway.

Your phone buzzes again.

**Lexa 1:40 pm**  
_Ok._

There not another message after it. There’s nothing else. 

_Ok._

You text her the address a few minutes later, but Lexa never answers.

 

****

 

There’s not a lot of people when you arrive. You’d promised Lincoln you’d help with a few things so you enter his apartment ( _their_ apartment, you correct yourself) an hour before the party properly starts. After giving a quick hug to Bellamy and Jasper, you check your surroundings with what you think is a subtle look.

Apparently it is not.

“Raven is not here yet.”

Bellamy gives you a friendly pat on your shoulder and you regret for a moment getting drunk and telling him the drama with your best friend.

You snort, waving your hand around in a way that, you realize seconds later, makes you look dumb. So you stop doing that. “I’m not- Pffftt I don’t care where she is.”

He smiles, nodding once you cross your arms on your chest and stare at him with a serious look. “Okay.” He shrugs. “But just in case you do care, she said she’d be here in two hours.”

A shaved dark head makes its appearance at the other side of the room, and you take the opportunity to run away from this conversation. “Okay.” You steal Bellamy’s beer while you leave. “Gotta go talk to Lincoln!”

You end up taking care of the music, putting a playlist together on a laptop that they are later gonna hook up to the speakers. 

You may have possibly accepted some bribes to sneak in a few songs people had asked for. But you take your job very seriously, thank you very much.

It is entertaining, and it’s not long before Lincoln comes to you and asks you if you’re done. After you nod, he starts setting everything up, and you realize an hour has already passed. There’s about 20 people now around you, and you don't even know half of them. You’re pretty sure half of the guys you can see are from Lincoln’s gym. 

The thought doesn’t really interest you as much as it would’ve before.

You look around, and you’re not even sure if you’re trying to spot Raven to avoid her, or Lexa to… talk to her? Avoid her? Push her up against the wall and kiss her?

Okay. Anything but that last one.

You can’t see any of the two, so you go to the kitchen to grab a drink. Someone hugs you from behind and you turn surprised to come face to face with an already tipsy Octavia. She seems so happy it makes you forget about the mess that is your personal life right now, and you cheer with her to the scream of “To me and Lincoln!”

The music is louder now, and more people are chatting in the living room while passing the pizzas around.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be living with him.”

Octavia grins the bigger you’ve even seen her grin, and she passes you another drink. “We’ve been dating for five months.” She laughs when you look at her like she’s crazy. “And yes, I know that maybe that’s not that long… but I love him.”

“That’s cheesy.” You look around dramatically searching for something.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find my friend Octavia. She’s about this height, brunette, doesn’t take any shit… She doesn’t like cheesy shit. Maybe you can help me look for h- OUCH!”

You rub the back of your head while Octavia smirks, her eyes still a bit narrowed. “Okay, I found her, it’s all good, I found her.”

“So what about Lexa?”

You choke on your drink, and splutter like an idiot for five minutes before you can articulate a word. “W- what?”

“Lincoln told me you two were cute. Did you invite her?”

“What???”

“You’re slow today, Griffin…” She takes a drink of her beer while you stare at her bewildered, demanding some sort of explanation of why Octavia even knows about the existence of Lexa. Also, how the fuck she suspects you invited her tonight. Your friend sighs. “Lincoln saw her the other day in the ER, so he… chose that moment to tell you about the party hoping that when you saw her… well, you’d stop being a dumb noodle and you’d invite her.”

“WHAT?”

“Okay, now you really need to get some new vocabulary, it’s getting old.”

You take a moment to reassess your thoughts, shaking your head to understand Octavia’s words thought the slight dizzy feeling you’re starting to get from the alcohol in your system.

“How do you even know about Lexa?”

“Lincoln tells me everything, obviously.”

“Ugh, gross!” You grab another beer and turn to leave, “I’m not taking this emotional manipulation anymore.” You glare at Octavia while she laughs.

“Ohhh, the matchmaker got MATCHMAKED!”

You show her the middle finger as you leave towards the living room.

People have started dancing, some are already wasted. Your head buzzes from the noise and the booze, and the thoughts of Lexa, and you don’t really notice what’s in front of you until you collide with someone on the hallway. You feel the liquid in your chest before you realize you made the other person spill a bit of their drink on your shirt. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was-”

“It’s okay, Clarke.”

You recognize the voice immediately, and you head snaps upwards with an almost violent gesture, and your eyes fall into pools of green.

Lexa smiles at you.

“You’re here.”

“Yeah, this is actually pretty close to where I live. I was looking for you, Lincoln told me you were in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah, I was talking to Octavia.”

You stand there staring at each other for a moment. Lexa takes a drink from her glass, and you wonder why she came.

The awkward situation is more prominent the more neither of you talks, and the thousand thoughts running wild in your brain are making very difficult the task to say something reasonable. 

You want to tell her about the way she makes you feel. You’ve had at least 5 drinks and you want to tell her everything. Instead, you stand in front of her letting the music fill the space between you.

Someone walks behind Lexa, pushing her a bit unknowingly and she takes a step towards you to avoid being in the middle of the hallway.

You suddenly find it a little difficult to breathe.

Lexa looks into your eyes with a calm expression.

“Why am I here, Clarke?”

The question takes a breath out of you like a punch to the throat. She doesn’t seem to notice, so you smile at her with what you hope is a confident expression. “Because we’re friends. And I wanted my friend here.”

Lexa keeps staring at you, and yet again you feel as if she’s waiting for you to cut the bullshit.

“Lincoln and Octavia will probably be making disgusting googly eyes at each other the whole night… and Raven and I are kinda fighting and-” You take a breath while giving her a lopsided grin that this time is genuine. “I missed you.”

The next moment Lexa is grabbing you by the arm and taking you down the hall. You don’t understand anything, but your heart is going crazy and your mind is racing through every possible-

Lexa takes you into one of the rooms.

She closes the door behind her and turns to look at you.

The music is less loud here, it sounds like it’s coming from far away.

“Why are you like this?”

She doesn’t look angry. She just looks confused, like she genuinely wants to understand why you’re being so difficult.

“Excuse me?”

Boy, you wish you knew too.

“Your friend? Look Clarke, you _wanted_ to kiss me that night.”

The words come out of her mouth effortlessly, but your head is spinning and everything just seems so _hard_.

She starts pacing the room. “But I really don’t understand if you’re into me or if you’re not and you’re just so fucking confusing and you-”

You don’t hold it back this time. “I am into you.”

Lexa stops talking. She stops walking. She just… stops.

You think she may have actually turned to stone, when she surprises you by speaking.

“You are?”

You laugh, feeling crazy at the giggles coming from your mouth. “YES. Shit, that’s the problem, Lexa. I am into you, I am so into you I don’t know how to deal with it!”

“Why?”

_Why?_

_Why can’t you?_

“Because it’s… overwhelming.”

Lexa moves. You don’t think you’ve seen her even breathe during the last minute of this conversation, but she’s now moving and walking towards you. You want to take a step back, but you notice the bed right behind you and you decide to stay where you are. This is too much…

“It’s not.” Lexa is in front of you, looking into your eyes with furrowed eyebrows. “It’s not overwhelming.”

“It is!” Your hand moves through your hair nervously. “I don’t like it.”

Lexa snorts, and you realize that you sound like an overgrown child. She shakes her head when you glare at her. You don’t even look menacing. You don’t want to be glaring at her, you want to-

“Well, I don’t understand why it is so difficult, so maybe help me out?”

This time it’s you the one who starts pacing the room. Lexa takes a few steps back with a puzzled expression on her face. You don’t even know how to answer that question.

You just want to walk out door and get out of here.

Ironically, it occurs to you that you’ve never had a conversation like this. You’ve never _had_ this.

No wonder. It really is nerve-wracking.

“Because,” Lexa stares at you and you divert your eyes to the wall to avoid looking at her, “you get hurt” her face turns to stupefaction, “and I… panic.”

It’s like her whole body softens at those words.

“Lexa, I never panic.”

She stays silent.

“And because of my mom, and because-”

“Clarke.”

She is standing in front of you now. Your hand is suddenly warm, and you realize she’s holding it with hers. Her thumb brushes over your skin.

“I don’t give a fuck about your mom.”

“Well, that’s… kinda rude. Nice, but still rude.”

Lexa laughs, and it draws a chuckle out of you.

“I just… ugh, sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that. I just want you to do what you really want to do. Not what you think you should do.”

You separate your hands, trying to get some distance between the two of you. You need to clear your head, or you’ll end up doing something that is going to make things _even more_ confusing.

“Okay. And what do you think I want to do? You think you know it all?”

Lexa respects the space you’ve put between the two of you, but the intensity of her stare makes you feel like she’s closer than she actually is.

“You want to kiss me.”

You can’t find it in you to deny that statement.

“You wanted to kiss me that night, and you want to kiss me now.”

Your feet move involuntarily and you take a step towards her. But you stop before you can take another one.

“Although I can’t say that attitude isn’t doing it for me, all these feelings are not my thing, okay? I don’t like them, I don’t want them, I can’t feel this for you, okay? I just can’t-”

The words die at your throat because Lexa’s lips are touching yours, and after a short moment of shock, you mouth starts responding and you’re kissing her. You’re kissing Lexa.

Her hands touch your neck; you feel her arms go over your shoulders, her hands now on your hair, and you grab her hips unconsciously.

Her body melts into yours, and her tongue brushes lightly over your bottom lip. You open your mouth to feel her; to feel everything Lexa has. You’ve never felt closer to someone than you feel right now in this room, in an apartment that is not even your own, and with Lexa breathing heavily into your mouth.

You push her body closer to yours, even though by this point it’s just impossible, and you feel your knees almost buckle when she moans in between kisses. You’re suddenly very afraid of losing her, and your fingers hold onto the fabric of her shirt as if it is your own lifesaver.

You’ve been afraid of having real feelings for someone long enough.

You can take being afraid of losing her. It’s better than continuing to act like a fucking moron.

You can do it.

Lexa pushes into you and before you can concentrate on what is happening, your back is against the wall, and your whole body vibrates with the sounds of music and laughter coming from outside and the feeling of Lexa’s skin pressed against your own.

She’s still wearing her clothes. _You’re_ still wearing your clothes.

But you feel that might change quickly if this keeps happening. And… you don’t want that. Not here, not like this.

You’re about to separate your lips from hers to tell her that, when the door is opened and Lexa jumps away from you so fast she almost falls. You catch her by her shirt, and wait till you’re sure she’s not gonna trip and land on the floor.

Diverting your eyes towards the door, you realize the person who interrupted you was no other one than… Raven. 

Who is looking at you with tears in her eyes and a trembling lip. She has an almost finished glass on her hand and by the unfocused way she’s looking at you, you suspect she’s had a few of those.

You don’t even think she has noticed Lexa is in the room.

She takes a few steps in your direction and you stare at her confused because you don’t understand if she’s about to slap you, or-

She hugs you.

“I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

You look at Lexa from above Raven’s shoulder and she returns your stare with a small smile. She points with her hand to the hallway and, when you nod, she exists the room closing the door behind her.

“I am so, so, so sorry. I love you, please don’t even be mad at me again. I’m freaking out and I need my best friend, and I know I’ve been a bitch and I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

You sigh into Raven’s shoulder, and you hold her tight because you’ve missed her too.

“I was not mad at you, Raven.”

“Yes, you were. Because I said some really stupid things that I shouldn’t have said, because they’re not true.” She separates herself from you and she shakes her head, stopping when she realizes she’s getting dizzy, and her face makes you laugh. “They’re not true.”

“It’s okay.”

“No.” She starts crying again, and you try to clean her face with your hands. Her make up is all over the place. “Nothing is okay. I was awful to you, and I’ve been a bad roommate, and a bad friend, and I haven’t listened to you when you tried to help me after Finn, and I’ve done some really stupid things, and it’s not okay, and oh my god, I think I’m dating Anya.”

She takes a long breath and you stare at her with wide eyes because all of that came out so fast that you’re still processing. 

“Wait, that’s what you’re freaking out about? Anya?”

“YES.”

You laugh like you haven’t laughed in weeks and it’s honestly so refreshing that you can’t stop. Raven covers her face with her hands while grumbling.

“It’s not funny!”

“You have feelings for Anya! It is funny!”

Raven starts weeping again, and you can’t stop laughing.

You also need to make sure she stops drinking, because she has certainly had enough. And apparently, the same goes to you.

“She’s the first person… since Finn, that I actually… Clarke, I think I really like her.”

You hug Raven again, because you don’t know what else to do.

“Yeah, realizing you have feelings for someone really fucking sucks.”

You stay like that for a while, holding each other. She stops crying at some point. But you don’t let go, because it’s not until now that you’ve realized how much being apart from Raven has affected you. Not just these days.

You feel like something between the two of you has been different for a while now. Before all of this.

And you need to understand.

“Raven,” She hums against your shoulder, indicating that she’s listening, “what you said, how I hurt the people around me… I don’t understand. I’m sorry, did I hurt you at some point? Because that was not my intention, you have to know that.”

She takes a step back and you stare at her as she shakes her head again.

“Clarke, no, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Raven, you were _upset_ , I just want to know why. It’s okay.”

Raven sniffles. She walks to the other side of the room and sits on the bed.

You lean against the wall, looking at her. 

“I know I have been weird since… Finn.”

You don’t know where you expected this conversation to go but the fact that Raven has admitted this is surprising to you.

She has. But you imagined it was because of… well, _Finn._

You wait for her to continue.

She raises her head to look at you. “And I’m sorry, because it was never your fault, but at the time I felt like it was.”

“Raven, I don’t really unders-”

“He told me he fell for you.” She gives you a sad smile. “That’s why he dumped me. He fell in love with you.”

And just like that, suddenly, it all falls into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the real question is: will Clarke ever find out that Anya punched her girlfriend in the face? (also... is that what really happened?)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY IT’S BEEN SO LONG
> 
> I would sing a backstreet boys song to you all to apologize but I don’t think that would make it any better… probably worse

Lincoln finds you while you wait in the hallway for Clarke to come out of the room. You don’t really know what you’re supposed to do, you’re just making time here with a drink in your hand because it’s not like you know anyone at the party. 

You came to see Clarke. That’s the only thing that was running through your head when, at the last minute, you decided to put on some jeans and a grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up and practically sprint out the door. You just wanted to see Clarke.

You saw Clarke.

You kissed Clarke.

 _“Veni, vidi, vici.”_ The phrase pops into your head and you choke on your drink and almost fall back laughing, but you manage to hold yourself against the wall.

You find yourself so damn funny that you’re still chuckling five minutes later when Lincoln turns the corner with a beer in his hand and an easy (tipsy) smile on his face.

“Hey,” he looks around, probably looking for Clarke, “what’re you doing?”

You look around too, even though you know she’s still inside the room with Raven. You want her here with you. You want to scream to everyone that you just kissed Clarke and it was amazing.

Instead, you shrug. “Nothing.” 

He takes a drink of her beer without taking his eyes off you.

You take a look at your phone. Clarke has been in there with Raven for exactly eight minutes and twenty-one seconds.

Twenty-two seconds.

You sigh.

“Okay, Clarke and Raven are inside that room and Raven was like crying and I have absolutely no idea what’s going on to be honest.”

“Oh, it’s cool, I never know what’s going on with those two either.”

He just shrugs at you and makes a funny face and suddenly you don’t find yourself clutching your drink nervously and looking at the door every two seconds. That’s probably why he’s good nurse. Despite his big physical appearance that can sometimes come off as threatening or intimidating, he’s a gentle soul. And you’re half positive his smile could cure everything.

You’re in the middle of contemplating the man in front of you with what must be perceived by others as a creepy stare (he actually turns around one second to look behind him, probably wondering what the fuck you’re staring at) and trying to decipher if you’ve maybe drunk too much, when the door to your right opens.

Clarke comes out first, with Raven following a couple seconds later.

She gives you a small smile, but then her eyes fall on Lincoln. And then on you again.

Meanwhile, Raves looks at Clarke, who looks at Lincoln again, who looks at you… 

She snorts.

“Well, now this is awkward.”

You turn towards Clarke. “Everything okay?”

That seems to put her out of her trance, and when she looks at you the ground beneath your feet shakes because you swear you’ve never seen her look more beautiful than right now with her hair mussed up, her lipstick slightly messed up and a genuinely happy smile on her face.

She breaks the eye-contact with you to look at Raven and you feel like you can breathe again.

Raven looks different than how you saw her minutes ago. She looks… lighter.

“Yeah,” they smile at each other, “I think we will be.”

The moment is interrupted by Raven.

“We best bitches FOR LIFE!” She stumbles slightly and you all cringe when she almost falls to the floor. She manages to hold on to the wall, though.

Lincoln nods to himself several times. “… and Raven’s drunk.” He gets closer to her, and even though she whines at first, she lets him put an arm around her waist to support her. “I’ll take her to Octavia, and she can take her home.”

He turns to you, and then towards Clarke.

“You take Lexa back to her place safely.”

And then, he has the audacity to wink at the both of you. You’re pretty sure your face is turning red, and you absolutely refuse to look anywhere near Clarke’s direction.

You’re actually reconsidering a lot of your previous feelings about him.

“Okay, never mind, _now_ it’s awkward.”

Raven doesn’t even waver under Clarke’s glare, and she’s still laughing as she’s being pulled to the end of the hallway by Lincoln.

That leaves you and Clarke alone.

Clarke, who you just kissed approximately eleven minutes ago, and whose lipstick you’re pretty sure still remains in the corner of your mouth because you can taste it.

Clarke, who had told you she didn’t want to have these feelings for you but then she had kissed you like she was stranded in a desert and your mouth was a fountain.

Clarke, who is… speaking.

Clarke is speaking.

“Huh?”

She shakes her head apparently amused by your complete incapability to pay any attention right now.

“I asked if you drove here.”

“No, I told you, I live a couple of blocks away.” She nods, remembering. “I walked.”

You don’t know what she’s gonna say. Clarke maybe wants to stay, the party is still alive. You don’t want her to feel like the two of you have to talk about what happened tonight, but at the same time you’re dying to grab her by her shoulders and shake her (tenderly) while you ask her what does it all mean.

You’re confused, and drunk, and it’s late. And you just know that that kiss was nice. That’s the only thing your brain can process right now.

It was so fucking nice.

“Okay. Maybe we can take a walk, then.”

There’s a slight questioning tone at the end.

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

You don’t argue anymore.

And so, in minutes, you find yourself stepping into the street, the chilly wind blowing in your face, and suddenly you don’t feel that drunk.

You appreciate the silence though. And the cold.

Clarke had walked in front of you while you exited the apartment, but is now standing next to you. She looks up at the sky, and you wonder if she likes observing the stars. If she can find the constellations. 

You’re terrible at it.

It makes you wonder about all the things you still don’t know about her.

All the thinks she doesn’t know about you.

A gust of wind passes though you and it feels like… everything is open. Everything is wide open in front of you. And you want it.

It feels like a possibility.

“I don’t know where you live, so I think I’m gonna follow you and just make sure you don’t trip on a stick or something.” When she notices you’re about to argue, she chuckles and makes an exaggerated movement with her hand, urging you to start walking. “Lead the way, darling.”

You glare at her for the mocking tone and she giggles, clearly proud of herself.

“You keep that up, I’m gonna take you to a crack house and leave you there.”

“Rude.”

You walk and she follows.

She doesn’t say anything else, and you don’t feel like talking right now either. The moment feels too big to fill it with your typical banter.

You feel at ease, knowing she’s still here. She hasn’t run away this time. She’s still with you.

Until you realize Clarke is walking right beside you, and for a nerve-wracking moment, her hand touches yours in what seems to be a completely accidental action product of your sudden closeness.

Both of you withdraw your hands without saying anything.

And you want to smash your head against the trashcan you just passed because you’re freaking dying to hold her hand.

And your dumb ass just went and chickened out on the best opening…

There’s not a lot of time to grieve about the lost chance, though, because minutes later you’re in front of your building and now the situation is even more frightening.

Looking at her, faces only visible thanks to the dimmed light of a streetlight nearby, you realize maybe this can be less scary than you expected. What do you have to lose, anyway?

“Do you- do you wanna come inside?”

Clarke’s eyes widen, and you find yourself struggling to keep it cool.

“Just to talk! You know, hang out a bit.” She’s smiling a little now, and you find yourself breathing at a normal pace again. “I don’t think I’m tired enough to go to sleep.” You chuckle.

You think you see Clarke shiver due to a particularly forceful wind gust.

She nods.

You open the door for her, and before you realize what is happening, you’re walking up the stars to the first floor and you’ve got your keys in your hand ready to step into your apartment.

With Clarke.

Is the temperature on the building really different from the one outside, or are you just sweating because you’re a loser and this whole situation is making you really nervous?

You don’t get to answer your own question (probably for the best) because the moment you enter the apartment, you notice Anya on the couch watching TV. She looks up when she notices someone is in the room with her, totally unfazed.

“Shit, I forgot about Anya.”

Your roommate rolls her eyes. “Well, that’s always nice to hear. Hello to you too, ladies. Nice to see you two nerding it up again, also nice to not have Lexa moping around the flat all day being sad and pathetic over you, Clar-”

“ANYA!” She jumps at your scream, but you can see perfectly the smirk at the side of her mouth. Bitch. “Oh my god, you’re like the worst friend ever.” You walk the remaining steps in her direction, and grab her by the arm to pull her up once you reach the couch. “Go to your room, you’re grounded.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Go to your room!”

“Ugh.” She seems like she’s about to do as she’s told for once and you want to cry tears of relief. “Nah, I don’t wanna hear you bam-bam in the ham, I’m gonna go outside, you know, walk the dog.”

Clarke stares between the two of you with a confused expression in her face. She turns to you last.

“You guys have a dog?”

“No.”

Anya shrugs, as if she just remembered that little fact, and she scrunches her eyebrows together until she seems to give up on the whole thing. “I’ll go catch some Pokémon.”

You massage your face with your hands, aiming to make it very clear how much she’s annoying you right now. “Just… leave, please.”

Anya seems to understand that as her cue to leave, and she casts one last look at the both of you before she’s out of the living room and into her bedroom, where she changes clothes. She comes out five minutes later (five minutes that you and Clarke have been waiting without looking at each other while sitting on the couch) and she grabs her keys while muttering under her breath.

“… nice to know I didn’t end up splitting your lip for nothing-”

It had all seemed gibbering until that sentence. Unfortunately, as well as you had been able to hear it, Clarke had too.

The room gets really quiet suddenly, and you can _feel_ Clarke’s eyes on the side of your face. When you slowly turn to look at her, she looks at your for a couple of seconds, her eyes wide. You’re starting to worry one of her brows will disappear into her hairline.

“WAIT.” She starts walking towards Anya, who stops dead in her tracks and looks around her as if waiting to find some way to run away from this situation. “It was you who punched Lexa in the face??”

Anya stands completely still at that, a grimace on her face.

“Well, technically-”

“It was complicated-” You try to jump into to save her, but now Clarke is glaring ta the two of you and everything is immediate regret.

“I didn’t really-”

Clarke is now waking closer to Anya, who swallows nerviously.

“Lexa, your girlfriend is intimidating.”

“She’s not my girlfr-”

“DID you or did you not hit Lexa in the face?”

 

**~ Six days before ~**

“I need you to punch me in the face.”

You know it sounds ridiculous. You’re aware. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re completely sure this is the best idea you’ve ever had.

Apparently, Anya disagrees. She’s looking at you the same way she did that time you started putting banana pieces into your peanut butter sandwich.

Worried and horrified.

“You… need me to what?”

You repeat it to her slowly. She still stares at you with the same “are you fucking kidding me” look in her eyes, so you assume that the answer is a solid “No.”

And you need Anya in this or you’re going to be stuck in the same place you’ve been stuck for days. And that is not an option.

“Your fist. My face.”

“Okay, so you’ve officially lost it. Just tell me ‘cause I’m curious, was it that Japanese horror movie I made you watch with me last night? Because, I mean, I feel partially responsible if that-” She stops talking once she realizes you’re at the coffee table and you now have her phone in your hands. “Hey. What- Lexa, what are you doing with that.”

You easily unlock the phone, and fumble around with it a bit before you find the Contacts page. Anya gets closer to you and makes a move for the device, but you’re faster that her and quickly turn your back to her.

“Just sending a text to Raven.” You can practically feel Anya’s face losing color next to you. “Telling her how much you love her. And how she’s, you know, better at everything that you are. She’s the _best_ , actually. The best you’ve ever-”

Her second attempt to get the phone is still unsuccessful, but her motivation is bigger now, so when you attempt to get out of her grasp while she throws herself at you, her body ends up colliding with yours and the impact sends the both of you to the floor between groans and curses.

Anya continues her stubborn and reckless pursuit of the phone that is currently still in your hand. “Give me the fucking phone back, Lexa. If you text her anything, I swear to god...” You make an attempt at shrugging her off of you, and you crawl towards the couch only to be drawn back by the foot in the direction of a very angry and very _intimidating_ looking roommate.

“No, no, no… ouch!” You manage to free your foot. “Why won’t you help me??”

“BECAUSE YOUR PLAN IS FUCKING INSANE!”

She’s getting closer to the phone now; she’s practically sprawled on top of you, so you decide to turn your front to the floor, and your back to the screaming being. “AND ALSO, IT FUCKING SUCKS!”

Her arm shoots forward at the time you turn around.

A loud ‘crack’ sound resonates in the room, and Anya’s body suddenly goes limp.

“Oh…. Shit.” 

Something is in your mouth.

Or… something was in your mouth for a very short but very painful moment.

And now Anya is standing up looking at you with a horrified expression and holding her elbow. You can feel a warm liquid touching the tip of your tongue.

“Anya, please tell me all my teeth are still there.”

 

**~ Present day ~**

“So… technically, I kinda did.” Anya puts her hands up defensively. “But it was an accident, I swear.” 

Clarke alternates between glaring at Anya and… looking at you as if you’ve grown a second head. Which is unnecessary, because you think you did a pretty good job of explaining that story.

“Anyway, I’m out. See you later, losers.”

You throw an empty gum packet at her as she is about to leave. “Hey! 2009 called, it wants its insults back!”

The only answer you get is the front door closing two seconds later. 

“Wow, you guys never get bored around here.” Clarke takes a seat at the couch, and you follow her unconsciously. “Although, considering all the drama between me and Raven these days, I’m no one to say anything. At least there’s no crying involved with you two… wait, did you cry when her elbow landed on your face?”

You ignore the amused look on her face.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“About you crying? Yes.”

“About you and Raven.” You glare at her for good measure, and she responds by nudging your leg with hers.

The simple stupid act makes you stomach turn with nerves. You really want to kiss her again.

And by the look she’s giving you, you’re positive she feels the same way. The urge to ignore all problems involving other people is there, and as your eyes fall from her eyes to her lips, you almost give in for a second, but Clarke takes a deep breath and your mind returns to its normal state. Not that your normal state is any better, but at least you’re able to concentrate on the words falling out of Clarke’s mouth.

“We had a looong conversation about feelings and now I’m exhausted.”

You chuckle at that, but still try to press for a more… complete answer. “What happened?”

“Remember Finn?”

“Huh… the guy who broke up with her and left her an emotional mess?”

“The one.”

You don’t understand where this conversation is going or why the hell this has anything to do with Clarke, but you wait for her to continue, not wanting to stick your nose in something you shouldn’t and making Clarke upset.

She doesn’t look upset though, but she’s fidgeting with her hands, and without thinking much about it, you grab her right hand and hold it in yours. 

You don’t realize what you’ve done until a moment later, and the second you do you can feel your face heating. Trying to retreat your hand in case the gesture was not welcome, you move a bit away from Clarke, sitting further from her on the couch.

But she doesn’t let you. She grabs onto your hand stronger and you find yourself unable to move not even an inch away from her.

“He broke up with her because he fell in love with me.”

Now she’s using _your_ hand to fidget with.

“Woah.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you guys…?”

Clarke is now looking you straight in the eye and the words die at your throat.

“No. He was a friend. I had absolutely no idea-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You squeeze her hand. She feels like softness and nervousness. “I believe you.”

A laugh escapes her. It sounds like it’s coming from her chest. Genuine laughter.

And you feel proud of yourself for a moment.

“I had no idea. One day he told her he didn’t love her anymore and took off.”

You turn your face to look at her more closely and find yourself mere inches away from her. Trying not to get distracted, you say what you’ve been gathering the strength to say. “That’s the effect you have on people, apparently.”

Clarke is now also looking at you.

Her hand is still holding yours; her thumb brushing over you index finger.

“So what, are you gonna disappear too?” It had come off as a joke, Clarke has a smirk in the corner of her mouth, but you can’t help feel a much deeper meaning to the question.

“No,” you say. “I won’t.”

She closes the distance between the two of you this time and all the questions and thoughts running through your mind disappear the moment her lips touch yours. Much like your first kiss, it gets intense fast, but this time you feel it different. That kiss had been tentative despite the energy of neediness, it had been like dipping your feet into water to test the temperature. To see if it’s too cold.

This kiss feels nothing like that.

This kiss feels like throwing yourself into a lake, and you don’t give a damn how cold or how warm it is.

Clarke kisses you with fervor, her mouth barely separating from yours to change sides; just enough to move, but not really enough because your noses bump.

But neither of you cares. 

Your back falls onto the couch while Clarke moves to straddle you, situation herself on top of your hips, and you grab her by the neck of her shirt to keep kissing her. It’s intoxicating.

You bit slightly on her bottom lip, and you feel her hand sliding underneath your shirt, but she freezes suddenly. 

When you open your eyes, she’s still sitting on top of you, which makes you head spin like a freaking carrousel, but her face is not close to yours anymore. She stares at you from above with a small smile and a guilty expression.

“…ok, if you’re not into that- I get it… I’m sorry?”

Clarke looks at you with a puzzled expression at that.

“What?”

“…the biting?”

There’s a pause, in which you stare at each other, and then Clarke is losing it. She starts laughing so hard she falls back on top of you and puts her forehead on your chest.

She laughs for so long you don’t really know what to do.

But the fact that she’s still so close to you is driving you crazy. Not as much as not knowing why Clarke is laughing at you, but still.

When you feel her calm down, you nudge her on her side and she yelps.

“You done?”

She giggles a bit more, but tries to keep a straight face when she sees yours. “I think so.”

“Great.”

“Oh, come on…. don’t be upset about that. I just… Lexa,” She grabs your chin with her hand and pushes your face upwards until you’re staring at her. “you biting my lip was the hottest thing.” You swallow uncomfortably. “And I am into that. I am _so into that_ you have no idea.”

You feel your lips as dry as the sand.

“Mmm… o-okay.”

“I didn’t stop because of that.”

She moves from the position you’re both currently in so that she’s no longer straddling you. You sit up, crossing your legs, waiting for anything that is not “I can’t do this.”

“I don’t want to do this like… this.”

You don’t really understand what she means by that, and she must realize that because she takes another breath. “I don’t want to have sex with you on your couch when we’re both kinda drunk and we just kissed tonight for the first time.”

“Oh.” You feel yourself smiling like an idiot. Clarke wants this, she’s just… “I can’t believe Clarke Griffin is a hopeless romantic at heart.”

“Shut up.”

A calm sensation fills your stomach. Clarke wants this. She wants something real with you.

And you want everything with her. 

For a moment, you feel like screaming. You feel like kissing her. You feel like _smiling until your mouth hurts._

But the fatigue of the evening starts making an appearance, and you realize it’s late.

And you’re tired. And you just want to enjoy the fact that Clarke is still here and you’re gonna make it work.

“I love that you are.” She rolls her eyes at you, but you keep staring at her so she understands that you really do. That you’re not joking. 

Clarke yawns after a moment. “I should really get going.”

You stop her with a hand on her arm. “It’s late, and it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t drive.”

“Lexa-”

“I just want snuggles. I’m tired and probably still a bit drunk, so can we just cuddle on the couch?”

Clarke stares at you with an expression you can’t place, and you raise you brows at her. You’re being serious. 

“Why are you so cute?”

“You gonna cuddle me or what?”

Clarke just laughs and moves to lie behind you.

 

****

 

You’re in the kitchen making toast (trying not to burn the toast) two days later when Anya enters with her usual annoyingness.

“So did you two do the dirty yet?”

You almost choke on the juice you’re drinking straight from the box.

Putting it back on its place and closing the fridge door, you turn to your roommate with -what in your opinion is- the patience of a saint.

“Why are you like this.”

“Cause my girlfriend dumped me, that’s why.”

“You were like this before.” You close your eyes and lean your forehead against the fridge while you sigh. “And no, we’re taking it slow.” A small smile makes its way to your lips, and you try to hide it from Anya because you’re not in the mood to get roasted.

“Boring.”

“Also, I don’t know, Clarke is fine being with me when it’s just the two of us, but…”

“What?”

“Her mom. I’m worried about her family and how are they gonna take it, and to be honest, I wonder if her mom has anything to do with- ugh. Nevermind.”

Weirdly enough, Anya doesn’t push the subject. And you appreciate her for that.

“Talking about your love life…”

Anya turns to you with a confused expression. “We weren’t talking about my love life.”

“Well, you brought up the ex-girlfriend, so I gotta make a point about how happy I am that you’re getting over her… even if it is by banging Clarke’s best friend.”

“Hey! I’m not just b-. Ugh, whatever.”

You’re taken by surprise at that.

“You’re not just… Wait.” Anya doesn’t meet your eyes. “Fuck, you’ve got feelings.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She proceeds to ignore you while you eat your toast (and stare at her creepily waiting for her to break), and she busies herself with making her own breakfast.

It’s not until a while later when she finishes her scrambled eggs, that she craves under the pressure.

“Fucking stop looking at me like that.”

“Tell me what’s going on then."

She makes a vague gesture with her hands, clearly uncomfortable at being put on the spot.

“We’re dating, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

You snort, this time _choking_ on your food.

She ignores you.

“I’m going to work. See you later.”

“Hey, Anya!” She stops and waits for you to say whatever you have to say with an impatient expression on her face. “Don’t… be an asshole, please. I’m not saying you are, I’m… just saying that she’s a bit messed up from her last relationship according to what Clarke has told me, and she may look like she’s okay, but- just, please, don’t fuck it up.”

Anya doesn’t say anything, and you think that maybe she’ll be mad at you. Maybe you implied that she would hurt Raven just because? Which is not what you wanted to say at all.

When you figure she’s not gonna say anything, you turn to your toast again, giving up.

“I won’t.”

The words are whispered, but you hear them loud and clear before Anya is out of the kitchen.

 

****

 

Indra blows the whistle signaling the end of practice.

She doesn’t yell at you for once, and that shows how good the team was on the field today.

You are good.

The girls are all prepared.

You all head to the locker room with wide satisfied smiles on your faces and enthusiastic high fives. The conversation while you’re showering quickly turns toward the next game.

“Okay, last year they kicked our ass. But this year? Holy shit, we’re gonna smoke those bitches.”

“We’ve got it in the bag. Did y’all see that pass I gave to Echo?”

“That was amazing.”

“I just wanna win ‘cause I hate their captain.”

You all nod at that.

You’re not one to fuel your team on rage, but you won’t deny you’ll enjoy the crap out of seeing the captain of the other team’s face when you win.

“Yo, real talk, Ontari’s a bitch.”

Everyone starts talking at the same time at that, and you let your mind wander.

Harper and Monroe get out of the shower at the same time still criticizing the girl. Echo is trying to ignore everyone, but Emori keeps hiding her towel just to drive her crazy and you wonder how long it’ll be before someone “accidentally” dies at the hands of the taller girl.

You get out of the shower too.

After two more conversations about Ontari, three( horrifically) badly sung songs that did not deserve that kind of treatment, and an almost fight between Echo and literally everyone… you grab you bag and start saying your goodbyes.

Checking your phone while you step out of the locker room, you realize you have a message from Clarke.

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 4:12 pm**  
_are you doing anything this weekend, cause this lady is free from work ;) I thought maybe we could do something_

You don’t really know if Clarke had already something in mind, or if the wink means anything at all, but the simple thought of… the two of you getting any close to having sex makes your brain freeze, and you stare at the text for three good minutes until you figure you should probably respond.

**Me 6:21 pm**  
_I’ve got a soccer match on Friday, but I’m free on Saturday ;)_

The response doesn’t take a lot of time.

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 6:22 pm**  
_oooh can I go see you kick some ass? you know, once upon a time you told me you were really good, I gotta make sure that’s true and not a lie you tell to all the girls_

The idea of Clarke coming to see you on the match makes you almost float with happiness.

You’ll take that over any sex.

(Well…)

**You 6:22 pm**  
_Friday, 7 pm. You sure you really wanna come?_

**Clarke Hot Nurse Griffin 6:23 pm**  
_I’ll be there_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever wonder if I’ve dropped off the face of the earth/ if I’ll update soon/ if I’ve had a good day (unlikely considering we’re still in 2016)… you can find me on [tumblr](http://nofriesnoglory.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> Only two chapters to go!
> 
> (all mistakes are mine, and there will be probably be a few)


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